The Good Wife
by Kadi219
Summary: Raydor/Flynn - Life doesn't always go according to plan. Sharon's marriage certainly didn't, but it is what it is and she has become accustomed to it's existence, or lack thereof. That is until Jack decides to change the status quo and in a way that leaves her wondering what was, what is, and what could have been. Post Season 2. Possible Spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

The Good Wife

by Kadi

Rated: M

Disclaimer: I'm only borrowing. I intend to return them... soon.

A/N: Between the way Jack left, and the irritation on Provenza's face during those three episodes... this one has been building for a while. Then there was Duff's comment during the live Facebook chat while _Return to Sender _part 2 was airing. In his response to one of our shippers, he said that Sharon was "married, but dating". That comment sent my brain into overdrive. Enjoy!

* * *

There were religious reasons, and there were financial reasons, and things she simply couldn't explain. Those were the words with which she had used to describe her marriage. It was well rehearsed. She had been using the same line throughout the twenty-plus years of separation she had engaged in with Jackson. It was a matter of not wanting to admit failure, as much as it was not wanting to give in and give Jack all of the things that he had no right to. California divorce law was known for favoring the unworthy. Sharon wasn't willing to risk losing half of what she had worked for, although she would give it to be free of him. No, it was the risk she ran of spending the remainder of her life paying alimony that kept her from filing for divorce.

Sharon never expected that Jack would file. He seemed content enough to use their status to further his own needs, when it served that purpose, or to ignore it when it didn't.

Her bewilderment must have shown in her wide-eyed gaze when the processor placed the envelope in her hand with the simple, "You've been served."

Every member of her squad turned their gaze on her, and there were a myriad of looks. Confused to concerned, and one that held resignation. Her gaze fell on Provenza and he just shook his head. He wasn't entirely fond of her husband, and it showed now in the distaste with which he snorted and slapped the papers in his hand down on his desk. He had only barely tolerated Jack's presence the previous summer, but his dislike of the man went back many years.

Sharon's eyes fell to the envelope in her hand and she sighed, quietly. Her hands moved with quick, jerky motions, as she opened it. It was what she expected it to be, the bold, emblazoned words DECREE OF DIVORCE stood out in stark contrast to the white paper upon which they were printed. Her jaw clenched and she turned, not even bothering with an excuse. She closed herself into her office and flipped the blinds.

She dropped the papers onto her desk without studying them further and made a single call. "Need you."

If having their Captain served in front of them was a surprise, the squad did not react to it, or to the arrival of Gavin Baker half an hour later. He walked through the murder room as though he owned it, and didn't spare a glance for anyone. He pushed through the closed door and let it swing shut behind him.

She was standing behind the desk, back to the door, and attention focused on the Los Angeles skyline - or what they could see of it from the ninth floor. Her arms were folded across her chest and her back was straight. Gavin studied her, quickly, and decided she was more annoyed at the moment than anything. He spied the papers and lifted them before speaking. He read through the first page quickly, it was all the usual verbiage. The second page made him hiss.

"Bastard." Gavin's eyes narrowed.

"Yes." She spoke, voice thick, and rasping slightly. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of her while she waited for him. Sharon wished that she hadn't read them. That would have made it so much easier to just give it over to Gavin and set him free on Jackson.

"He's claiming infidelity." Gavin's teeth gnashed together. "He is actually requesting a paternity test and claiming that Beth isn't his. He's claiming the emotional duress of raising a child that was not his, to an unfaithful wife, has led him down a road of alcohol and gambling addiction which has further impaired his ability to maintain a stable career. He's using it as grounds for spousal support. That ungrateful, inconsiderate, _louse_!" Gavin snapped the papers down on the desk with such force that she jumped, and he regretted it.

She wanted to scream. Emotion was building in her, so thick and so raw, that she didn't know if she would be able to contain it. It curled deep inside, making her stomach clench and knot and her chest ache. "I…" Sharon couldn't even speak. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the skyline.

Gavin sighed. He walked around the desk and laid his hands on her shoulders. She was tense. He could feel it in the tight bunching of the muscles beneath his hands. He felt the sigh shudder through her before he heard it. He turned her toward him and lifted her chin. The raw pain in her eyes made his own heart clench. He decided that he was wrong, he could despise Jackson Raydor more. Gavin drew her into a hug, holding her ramrod straight body loosely. She would relax, but she never accepted comfort well. She was too unaccustomed to receiving it.

"Okay." He said. "We can deal with this. That man has opened the very gates of hell and he is going to regret the moment of stupidity that prompted him to draft such lurid… crap." She shuddered again and his hands stroked her back. He lay his head against the top of her head. "I'm going to fix it, sweetie, you just leave it all to me. I'll counter file, and he won't know what hit him. We've got emotional abuse, abandonment, and psychological—"

"No." Sharon pushed away from him so quickly they both stumbled. She backed away, shaking her head and began to pace the office. "No, absolutely not. I won't. Gavin." Desperation curled through her. "_No_."

"Sharon, those accusations could ruin your reputation, and possibly even your career. Jackson is claiming you've been having an affair for at least twenty-five years. It's not enough that he wants to destroy what's left of your family, he's out for blood. The man has obviously lost touch with reality," Gavin stared hard at her, tracking her movements. "We fight back harder, and with the truth."

"No." She ran a hand through her hair. "You know as well as I do that he was just a drunk. Gavin… he sobered up. He left. I'm not going there. Emotional abuse, abandonment, fine. Attack his addiction, attack his gambling. He's had affairs over the course of our separation, and even before that. We have proof of those too. I will not destroy my kids by sinking to his level."

"Anymore than they're already going to be destroyed?" Gavin picked up the divorce papers again. He huffed an annoyed sigh. "Fine. You know if we can't stop it in the preliminary round, there could be a subpoena? We'll have to get DNA from Beth and…"

"Yes." She whispered. Sharon dropped into one of the chairs in front of her desk and buried her face in her hands. "Gavin. I never…"

"I know." He walked over and knelt in front of her. "I know you didn't. Even if you wanted to, you didn't."

Sharon looked up and there was bitterness in her gaze. She'd had a man that could have loved her and she sent him away, time and time again, because she was never anything but faithful to the man who was now claiming otherwise. "How do I do this? How do I tell my daughter that her father hates me so much that he would cast her away for a chance to ruin me?"

"The same way you do everything else." Gavin tipped her face up and smiled. "Chin up, sweetie. Full ahead, take no prisoners."

"I suppose." She looked away and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. It was hard, damned near impossible to push the emotion back behind the wall. She didn't manage it, but she could pull down the facade, pretend she had. That she was only too good at. Sharon drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, her chest ached. Her stomach continued to clench tightly. She wanted to be sick. "Okay." She shook her hair back and swept a hand over her face. Sharon stood up and moved to the door. She opened it and found several pairs of eyes staring back at her, questioning, waiting. "Lieutenant Flynn, will you join us please…"

_"He's asleep." Sharon returned from putting Ricky back in his bed and folded a leg beneath her when she dropped onto the sofa beside her partner. She tipped her head back and sighed. It had been a long day. Ricky hadn't wanted to go down, he wanted to stay up and listen to more of Uncle Andy's stories. When that hadn't worked, he said he wanted to wait up for his dad. But Sharon knew that Jack wouldn't be home until sometime after midnight. He couldn't study at home, so he stayed late at the library. Although how he came home smelling of cheap whiskey when he was studying so hard, she didn't question. She didn't want to know the answer._

_"I should get out of here. Let you do the same." Andy leaned forward and put his beer on the table in front of them. He stood up and smiled down at her, a crooked upturn of his lips. "Dinner was good. I'm sorry I missed Jack." _

_"Yeah." She didn't bother to make the usual excuses. Instead, Sharon stood up to walk him to the door. She pushed the tail of her long braid back over her shoulder and curled a hand around his wrist. "Maybe next time." _

_"Yep." At the door he looked at her. He was supposed to have his kids tonight, but his wife called and cancelled on him, like she did so often. He drank too much, and sitting in his partner's house had helped, only marginally. He was craving the oblivion he could find in the bottom of a bottle of bourbon. It would chase away the loneliness, the bitterness, and the anger. He wouldn't give a damn about anything once he had it in hand. _

_When he looked down at his partner he saw the same loneliness reflected back at him. They'd been riding together now for over a year. She was fresh out of patrol when he got saddled with her, but after riding together a while, she had grown on him. Sharon had a cool head on her shoulders and she could pick out the details he missed. She was also easily taught, and hell on wheels in a tight spot. She had saved his ass a couple of times now. He still meant to get her down to the academy training range, take her through the course, see which of them was better. Andy had a feeling it was her. _

_"Hey." He smiled at her. Tapped her nose. She looked unspeakably sad at the moment, and he knew she was thinking about the husband. Andy knew Jack, and knew he was probably at Malone's, the bar that he and others frequented. He met Jack there before he realized that Jack was married to his new partner. He was a funny guy, and not opposed to buying a few rounds. Although, as he got to know his partner better, Andy was starting to think that maybe he spent a little too much time away from home. _

_He had a good thing here. His wife wasn't nagging at him, constantly on his ass about one thing or another. Or maybe he was biased. His loyalty had shifted at some point, to his partner rather than his drinking buddy. _

_Andy wasn't sure what prompted him to lower his head and try to kiss the downturned curve of her lips away. He couldn't explain why his hand moved into her hair and tipped her head back so that his mouth could angle over hers and take possession of that sweetness. She tasted faintly of the wine she'd had with dinner and when she sighed into his mouth, Andy pressed her back against the wall of the small foyer. He might have questioned his behavior, but for her hands in his hair and her mouth just as insistent when the kiss deepened. _

_His hands swept down her sides and to her jean clad bottom. Desire swept through her, liquid heat that pooled at her center and made her forget all reason. She whimpered when he lifted her, and wrapped her legs tightly around his hips. He was already hard against the inside of her thigh and she wanted to rub against him until he was aching just as keenly as she was. Her breath caught in her throat when his hands swept beneath her sweater. His hands were warm, burning against her skin. _

_The sound, the thick, low whimper that escaped her throat seared right through him. Andy pressed her more firmly against the wall and reached for the clasp of her jeans. Her stomach muscles danced beneath his fingers as they swept low across her belly. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and stilled him. _

_"Andy." She was breathing hard and her face was pressed against his shoulder. She was aching, trembling with desire, and it would be so easy to give herself over to it. How long had it been since she felt ignited to the point of complete abandon? "No," she whispered. "I can't. I'm a married woman." _

_He wanted to growl in frustration, but that she was still shaking in his arms. He let her down slowly, gently. Her eyes were dark when she looked up at him, and there was regret and sorrow mingling with the desire in her gaze. She wanted him, but she wouldn't take him. "I'm sorry." It made him feel like such a heel; he wanted to chase away the sadness, instead he'd made it worse. _

_"So am I." He was not blameless. She had reached for him as well. Sharon remained against the wall when he stepped back from her. "It's okay." _

_"No, it isn't." His eyes darkened briefly. "I wouldn't leave you alone." _

_She smiled, just slightly. He was with her because he couldn't go home. Because his wife wouldn't have him anymore, he drank too much, fought too much, and worked too hard. Still, she appreciated the sentiment. "Good night, Andy." _

_"Night. I'll see you tomorrow." _

_When he was gone she cried. For how close she had come to crossing that line and because she couldn't remember the last time she felt that way with Jackson. She resolved to stop leaning on Andy so much that night, and to press Jackson to not spend so much time away. They needed him at home. But she never told him about the incident with Andy. _

Sharon looked at Andy now, so far removed from that night in the foyer of a house she no longer owned. He was staring back at her, the desk between them, and she knew that she was not the only one lost in memory. He held the divorce papers in his hands, and she could see the storm brewing in his dark gaze. She could almost pity Jack if Andy ever got his hands on him, but only almost.

She pressed her lips together and clasped her hands loosely against the surface of her desk. "I'm sorry." It wasn't only her behavior being called into question. This was going to be an embarrassing mess for both of them.

"Hell." Andy dropped the papers onto her desk and stood up. He paced, fists clenching and unclenching. "We never…"

"I know." She looked down. "Jack has decided to think otherwise."

"Obviously." He ran a hand through his hair. "Bastard."

"Yes." She wasn't going to disagree. "Andy, he's asking for a paternity test. You and I both know that Elizabeth isn't yours, but…"

"Whatever he thinks happened that night, you got pregnant soon after." He cast a look at her, and there was enough bitterness mixed in that it was clear a part of him hadn't forgiven her for that yet. Whatever desire she had for him that night, she turned it on her husband and a few weeks later she was sick as a dog and pregnant with her daughter. "Hell of a trick you've got there, Sharon, considering I've never made it past second base with you."

She groaned quietly at the look that earned her from Gavin. "_Andy_." She glared at him.

"Wait just a minute." While Sharon had filled her Lieutenant in on the details of the divorce filing, Gavin had taken out a legal pad and was making notes on their counter measure. The turn that their conversation had taken had his head shooting up and fixing his old friend with a piercing look. "Are you telling me that there is reasonable doubt here? There could be some justification for Jackson stating you two have been carrying on for two decades?" He pointed his pen at her, "I can't help you if you don't tell me what we're facing." Gavin looked between the two of them. They had gone silent and were staring at one another. When they both looked away he collapsed back in his seat. "Oh my god."

Gavin began quickly packing up his briefcase again. "I have to get out of here before I hear more than I should." He took the divorce papers and filed them away with the notes he'd made. "I will do what I can, but this is going to get uncomfortable. Maybe I can scare him enough with the counter that he'll withdraw the rest."

"We won't hold our breath," Sharon said quietly. "Thank you, Gavin."

"Oh, I wouldn't thank me." Gavin made a face at her. "I might just bill you for this one, sweetie." He lifted up his briefcase and gazed between the two of them after he stood. "You two behave. Whatever it is that you've been doing, stop doing it, at least until this is done. No more second base, no first base, no even _thinking_ about bases… and how immature is that anyway?" He rolled his eyes at them and slipped out of the office. Already he had a headache. He was going to make Jackson Raydor rue the day, that would make him feel better.

"I should get out of here too." Andy said after a moment. He was left standing near the outer wall, back to the windows. "We don't want them to question why…"

"I know." She was looking at her desk. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him. Just when she thought that maybe, just maybe, life was going to go smoothly… it never failed to push another sharp turn in front of her. Rusty made it through the trial, he was back at school. Things were looking up for him, and he was coming to terms with who and what he was. How would this look to him? What would this do to him? It was going to destroy her other children, but she worried for Rusty as well. Not to mention her career. Then there was Andy's. Every investigation into his conduct that she had ever closed might just be reopened if it was believed that they had acted inappropriately.

"Hey." His voice was gentle. He tipped her face up. "You never did anything wrong." Andy searched her eyes, then smiled gently. "It was never you, Sharon."

"Wasn't it?" She curled her fingers around his wrist. "I'm as much to blame, aren't I?"

"No." He shook his head at her. "I am not going to allow him to destroy you for being stronger than he is. If it comes down to it, it was me. I pursued you. You were more than fair considering my unwanted advances. I'll retire, they'll let it go. It will be fine."

"Absolutely not." Sharon's eyes widened. "Andy, no. I am not going to let you…"

"Try and stop me." He bent and kissed the top of her head.

"Andy." He was heading for the door. "Lieutenant!" He ignored her and stepped out of the office. Sharon fell back in her chair and groaned. He would do it. She could order him not to, and he would do it anyway. "Damn it." They could only hope it never came to that. Maybe she should pay Gavin this time, it looked like he had his work cut out for him.

It was an almost physical pain, ignoring her, but Andy kept walking. He stopped by his desk and picked up his jacket and his car keys. The files he was working on he carried over and dropped onto Provenza's desk. "Do me a favor, wrap these up."

His partner gave him a concerned look. "What was all of that about?" He waved a hand in the general direction of the Captain's office. Flynn had gone in, looking concerned and puzzled, but had come out in as dark a mood as Provenza had ever seen him in.

"Don't worry about it," Flynn shook his head. "Just take care of those for me." He rounded the desk and started walking toward the exit.

His partner grunted. He did not appreciate or like being kept in the dark. If Flynn had done something idiotic, he wanted to know about it now, before it got any more out of control. "Where are you going?"

"No where," he called back. The truth was, he needed a meeting, and he had to get out of there before he gave in to the urge to put his fist through a wall. He managed, by some small miracle, to keep a lid on it until he was in his car. Then his hand slammed hard against the steering wheel several times. A string of curses left his mouth, dark and colorful, and expressing his extreme fury. If he could get his hands on Jackson Raydor, he would make the man regret every moment of pain, every tear, every second of doubt, and every single night of loneliness he forced upon his wife when Andy would have gladly kept her occupied and happy.

_"Are you kidding me?" He was as angry as he had ever been when he strode into her office. The door was open, but it usually as. Andy kicked the stopper and pushed it closed behind him. "This is bullshit, Sharon!" He waved the write-up at her. "That asshole had it coming. He threw the first punch." _

_She sighed at his ire and placed her pen back on the desk. She expected this when she set the final report down to his Captain, along with her recommendation. Sharon folded her hands together and tilted her head at him. "You engaged in a fistfight with another officer, Lieutenant. I would hardly call that _Bullshit,_" she stated calmly. "You've got a temper, Lieutenant. We both know it. While I will agree that you were not the only wrong party in this instance, you could have chosen better. You didn't. For that, you will attend the Anger Management course, and complete the requisite hours of additional education in the subject. Officer Davidson will be doing the same, along with a formal reprimand for instigating the encounter." She picked up her pen again. "It's done. Being angry with me isn't going to do you any good." _

_"No, but it makes me feel a hell of a lot better." He scowled at her. "So let me get this right. I defend myself, and I still get sent to Anger Management. How is that in anyway fair?" _

_"Next time, don't get physical." She glanced up at him and gave him a small smile. "You do have the ability to control yourself, the fact that you chose not to is the reason for the punishment." Her eyes glittered at him. "That, and I happen to know that you've been spoiling for the opportunity to lay Davidson out for a long time." Sharon shook her pen at him. "You were naughty. Do your time like a big boy." _

_Andy rolled his eyes at her. "You can be a real bitch, you know that?" He dropped into a chair in front of her desk and sighed. "It's not fair for you to use your knowledge of me against me," he tried. _

_"As a matter of fact," she smiled sweetly at him. "I have perfected the art of bitchiness since taking this job, and I'm constantly looking for ways to improve, thank you so much for noticing. I can't tell you how very touched I am." Her brows lifted. "As to the other, if that were true, Andy, you'd have a reprimand too. The fact that you don't is because I didn't use what I know about you in this investigation. Otherwise, I would have concluded that you provoked Officer Davidson into throwing that first punch." Sharon stood up and walked around the desk. She leaned back against it, facing him, hands clasped in front of her and sighed softly. "You're better than this. You know it, and I know it. You've been doing so well, I don't want to see you ruin everything because you can't control your temper." _

_"Really." He stood up and stepped closer to her. "If I was doing so well, then why is it that you're down here with the rats, instead of riding with me up on five?" At his height, he towered over her, and when he stepped into her personal space, she had to tip her head back. _

_"You know the answer to that," she said quietly. "Andy… I can't, I just…" She looked away and shook her head. "It isn't about you, I hope that you know that." Sharon sighed. "But I need the more stable hours. I need to not be shot at on a regular basis. My kids deserve that. Jack's gone, and they need me home at something that resembles a reasonable hour." _

_"Jack has been gone for a long time." Andy tipped her face up. "Your kids aren't babies anymore, Sharon. I get why you took the transfer. I can't stand you down here with these losers, but what I can't stand even more than that, is that you took the promotion to lead these bozos." He made a face at her. "Come on, this cannot be what you want. Come back to Robbery-Homicide before these slime balls completely ruin your reputation." _

_Her lips curved into a smile. "I hate to break it to you, Andy, but it's pretty ruined already. I am the Bitch Queen of the demon squad. I think you might be the only one, outside of my division, who remembers that I'm not really the devil incarnate." _

_"I wouldn't go that far." Andy grinned down at her. "I still think you're satan." He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb. "Do I have to do the entire week of class?" _

_She laughed at how he pouted at her. "Yes, and I'll make it two weeks if you don't stop whining about it." _

_"Yep, definitely satan." He sighed. "You are mean, Sharon." She was also still a beautiful woman. Two kids and a crap marriage hadn't changed that. He missed her, but life hadn't been the same since her daughter was born. The husband took off not long after, and she had moved into Internal Affairs because the hours were more suited to single parenthood. Andy bent his head, intending the kiss to catch her cheek, but at the last minute he changed his mind and his lips found hers soft and pliant. He could still remember the taste of her, and the heat of that supple little body against his. He hadn't touched her again since that night, and they had agreed to never discuss it. _

_He didn't know what possessed him to now, only minutes ago he had been so aggravated with her that he just wanted to shake her, but now he was feeling an entirely different impulse. He drew her against him and slipped a hand to the small of her back, holding her in place. His other hand threaded into her thick hair and tipped her head back. There might just be a very good reason why she wouldn't consider coming back to be his partner, the fact that she was now a Captain not-withstanding. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off her when they were alone together. _

_He had to admit, too, that the new job came with an interesting wardrobe. He was most appreciative of the skirts she wore now. His hand swept down, and slowly lifted the hem of the little black skirt she was currently wearing. It was quickly replacing her jeans in his fondest memories. _

_"Andy…" She had pushed him away the moment his hand slid up the length of her thigh. She was out of his arms and around the desk, using it as a barrier between them. "We discussed this." _

_"He's gone, Sharon." Andy ran a hand through his hair and attempted to cool the fire in his blood. "He hasn't been back around in, how long?" _

_"I'm a married woman," she told him. "Whether he's here or not, I am _still_ a married woman. This can't happen again. You need to leave." _

_"Keep fooling yourself all you want, Sharon," Andy walked toward the door, but stopped just shy of opening it. "I'm here, he's not. That might not always be the case." _

Andy remembered slamming her door behind him. He also remembered that she wouldn't look at him for several months after that. That day was the beginning, however, of all the animosity between them. Prior to that, he gave her the same amount of crap he had given anyone in Internal Affairs. Afterward, he wasn't sure if he just wanted to hurt her, or if he wanted to convince himself that he wanted to hurt her.

He lashed out at her every chance that he could. He thought up new and inventive names to substitute in place of her title, and he was as belligerent and hateful as he dared. Always stopping just short of insubordination. He didn't want to lose his badge over it.

The only problem with Sharon was, she gave back as good as she got. For every ounce of hell he threw her way, he received a pound of it in return. He lashed out, and she fought back. It was more subtle, of course. She could tear a strip off his hide with a few well placed words, and he came to realize that she was just as proficient with her tongue as she was with her gun.

Every time her eyes had flashed in annoyance, every time her lips thinned or pursed in exasperation, he would smile and feel just a little bit better about the need that settled in his gut when she walked into a room or onto a crime scene. It was a hell of a thing, the angrier he made her, the more he wanted her. It was insanity.

It was the reason he was going in search of a meeting. Her pain had him wanting a drink to the point of being able to almost feel the burn of the bourbon on the back of his throat. It was a long time since he had felt that way, but he could at least feel better in being able to recognize it, and how to handle it. Andy turned the car's engine over and put it in drive. The sooner, the better. Otherwise, he'd satisfy his need for a drink by tracking down Jack Raydor and beating the ever loving snot out of him. Too bad it was such a long drive to Vegas.


	2. Chapter 2

The Good Wife - Chapter 2

by Kadi

Rated: M

* * *

"What is wrong with you?"

Sharon had been acting weird for a few days now, and honestly, it was freaking him out. She was jittery, and when the phone rang, she would jump until she could look at the caller-id. Then she would either tense or relax, and depending on the reaction, she would close herself up in the bedroom.

More than once he had seen her with eyes too red for his liking, and she was pale. She wouldn't eat more than a couple of bites, even when he made the egg thing that she liked so much. She was drinking coffee instead of tea and he wondered if that was maybe _not_ helping in the way that she wanted it to. Either way, Rusty was a little fed up with not knowing what was going on.

They had promised no more secrets. After he found out that she was getting letters too, they had an agreement. They wouldn't keep something like that from each other again, and he had believed her. At least, he did until she started acting so weird, and really, completely unSharon-like.

Maybe he could have curbed his tone a little bit, but Rusty couldn't handle one more night of watching Sharon pace around the apartment with her phone in her hand, while trying to appear that she _wasn't_ pacing around the apartment. "You've been like this for days, Sharon. What is wrong?"

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her slim form and shook her head. "Rusty, it really isn't…"

"Any of my business." He rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, well, a lot of things aren't. Except I think you're either sick, or going to get sick, you're acting like _something_ is wrong, and not just in the usual sense of someone was murdered wrong, but _really, really_ wrong. Sharon?"

He stared at her, and it was the worry in his gaze that had her eyes filling with moisture. "I was going to say that it really isn't anything that I want you worrying about," she managed, forcing the words past the ache in her throat. "But I think we've reached that point when you're going to find out eventually…" Gavin sent his counter back to Jack and she was waiting for the response. In the meantime, she needed Elizabeth to return her calls, but her daughter was in the middle of a show and notorious for ignoring her phone for the duration. The upside was that Jack wouldn't be able to reach her either, not that Elizabeth would answer a call from him.

Sharon walked around and took a seat on the sofa. She curled her legs under her and pulled a pillow to her chest. "Things may get a little… uncomfortable around here, Rusty. I'm going to try and keep it from touching you as much as possible, but I'm afraid that may not be possible. I'm sure you're going to hear some things, and some of them may be true, but others won't be. It will be hurtful and stressful, but I'm hoping the situation won't last long."

"Okay." Rusty frowned at her. He turned on the sofa to face her and his brows drew together. "You're scaring me."

"I know honey," she smiled gently. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to. My life is just a bit of a mess right now."

"I noticed," Rusty stated, tone dry. "Sharon, just tell me. I think I can handle it."

"Probably better than I can," she said softly. She was so proud of him and how he was handling everything. "Okay." She sat up a bit and nodded. "Here it is. Jack has decided that being married to me doesn't suit him anymore. He's filed for divorce, and that might be stressful all on its own, but when you file for divorce," she explained, "you have to give some reason as to why you're ending a marriage. Jack is alleging that the current state of his life is a result of how badly he was treated, by me, during the course of our marriage. At the forefront of Jackson's accusations is infidelity."

Rusty's jaw dropped open. Of all the things he expected her to say, that was not it. He was thinking it would be, somehow, related to her job. Or his living with her. Or even the trial, although all of that was behind them. He never expected it would have anything to do with that jerk. "Asshole!" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and her wince and glare had him shrugging apologetically. "Sorry. But he is. What are you going to do? It's not true, right, I mean, it is so _obviously_ not true."

"It's not true," she smiled at how emphatically he rose to her defense, even if his language left something to be desired. "A friend of mine, a lawyer, Gavin Baker, is going to handle it. He's going to counter file against Jack, and claim abandonment, among other things. It's all really," she waved a hand, "unpleasant. I'm really sorry, Rusty, that this is happening now, just when things were getting back to normal again."

"You're kind of insane, you know that right?" Rusty made a face at her. "Sharon, you're the one whose life is kind of… totally sucking right now. You're not supposed to be sorry. I think that's my line. What happens? I mean, with all of these lies he's saying about you."

"Well," she sighed and shrugged. "If Jack doesn't take Gavin's counter offer, then we go to trial. It's likely that a lot of things will be said, and we'll have to take steps to prove, or in our case, disprove his allegations. Unfortunately, if I can't keep them out of it, my kids are going to end up involved and they're going to be faced with the absolute truth that their father is a complete and utter…"

"Asshole." Rusty supplied for her with a frown. "Sharon, no offense, but I think they might already know that."

"Yes." She had to agree with him, but at the same time, Sharon shook her head. "Language, Rusty." She picked at the edges of the large throw pillow and rested her head in her hand. "A lot of things could happen after that, Rusty. Jack is claiming that I've been having an affair for the past twenty-plus years, and that could effect me professionally."

His nose wrinkled. Rusty tried to wrap his head around that, but couldn't. "How? I mean, people do that kind of thing all the time. Why does that have anything to do with your job, especially if it's not true?"

"Because the other party is a member of the LAPD also, and I have, in the past, investigated him. Any of the decisions I made while I was with Internal Affairs could be called into question. Those cases could be reopened, and his conduct could be re-evaluated. His job could be impacted as well."

Rusty didn't like where this was going, or the way in which she had paled further, just talking about it. "Oh god, do I even want to know?"

"Probably not." She drew her lip between her teeth and looked away.

"It's Lieutenant Flynn isn't it? I mean, you went to that wedding with him, and then the ballet. You said they weren't dates, but someone else might think they were…" Rusty made a face. He totally did not want to think about _that_. It was so many levels of just, wrong. "I mean, there's that, and Lieutenant Provenza has told me stories about what it used to be like, before you were in charge. He made it sound like you were so mean to all of them, especially Flynn."

"_Lieutenant_ Flynn," she corrected for him automatically. Sharon felt her stomach clench and the little bit of dinner she had forced down earlier was threatening to make a reappearance. "Rusty, I don't want to delve too deeply into it. Needless to say, you may hear some unpleasant things, and most of them are not going to be true. That is one of them."

"Well duh." Rusty rolled his eyes at her. "Setting aside for the moment that it is completely disgusting to even think about," he stated emphatically. "You are like the most… rule following person in the history of rules. I don't care how hard they try, and they do try, there is no way that the squad is ever going to be a bad enough influence on you to change _that_."

Sharon's lips twitched, and for the first time in several days, she felt the first real smile tugging them upward. "Rusty…" She shook her head at him. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," he turned back around and picked up the remote. "Now can we like, _never_, talk about you in the same sentence with the word affair, or sex, or anything like that ever, _ever_ again. Please?"

"Absolutely." It was equally unpleasant for her. She stood up when there was a knock at the door. There was no longer a reason for them to have security outside her apartment, but certain habits hadn't changed. Sharon checked the identity of the visitor through the peephole before opening the door. Instead of inviting him in, she pushed into the hall and pulled the door closed behind her. His timing was so many shades of bad. "What are you doing here?"

"Checking on you." Looking at her was an almost visceral pain. She was usually so put together, and right now she seemed haggard, drawn. "You weren't in the office today." Andy couldn't stand not seeing her right now, not knowing if she was okay or not. She was obviously _not_ okay, but at least he could keep an eye on her.

"I took a personal day," Sharon gripped the doorframe and leaned back against the closed surface. "I had some appointments that couldn't be postponed any longer." Her breath hitched and she shook her head. "Gavin suggested that I liquidate some assets, clean out some accounts before Jack can have them frozen. I also had some other calls to make, and I didn't want to make them from the station."

"I see." His jaw clenched. The bastard was going through with it then. She had been decidedly close lipped about it since telling him what was happening. "Gavin filed his papers?"

"He did," she folded her arms across her chest. She hoped the pressure would help the ache in her chest. "There hasn't been a response yet, but… if it doesn't work, we'll offer a generous settlement, and I'm sure that's probably what Jack is after anyway. A lump sum payment, he won't get any of my pension, and I won't pay spousal support. In return, he will retract his accusations. He'll be out of my life. He may not like what he gets, but it will be done."

"You won't be married anymore." Andy took a step toward her. His jaw clenched tightly shut, to the point of near pain. It was nothing compared to the ache in his gut. His palms itched. Against his better judgement he reached for her. His hands curled around her upper arms and he drew her forward. She folded against him, feeling so small, so brittle, and he closed his arms around her.

Her breath hitched again and she swallowed back the ache of tears. Sharon pressed her face against his chest and inhaled deeply. The knot in her center squeezed tightly and she couldn't stop the low, keening whimper. It was just too much, being faced with her own regret when all she had ever really wanted was this. Her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket. "No," she whispered. Her tears were hot against her cheeks. "No, I won't be." If it didn't hurt so much, she might laugh at the absurdity of it. Here she was, at last, at the end of a marriage that had scarcely existed, and yet the regret and the relief were so bittersweet, they were painful.

He could only remember another time he'd seen her so shaken. She had cried that night too, and like so many others, the memory stayed with him. He laid his cheek against the top of her head and held her closer.

_Not for the first time in his life, Andy wished that he wasn't an addict. He hurt like hell, all over, and was longing for something more powerful than the acetaminophen that he had taken. He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep. He had gone out with the team to celebrate clearing his name, but now he was wishing he had just come home instead, saved the celebrating for another day. He wanted to sleep, he really did, but his eyes felt like sandpaper and his head was pounding. _

_The sound of his doorbell made him groan. If that was Provenza he was going to risk pulling his stitches for the opportunity to kick his ass. The man was worse than a mother hen. Andy rolled off his sofa, grunting as he went, and made it to his feet. His stomach ached, his arm was throbbing, and he was generally sore all over. Andy shuffled over to pull open the door, and found an entirely new reason to hurt all over. _

_Sharon stood there, her suit was gone. She was in jeans and a form fitting blouse, and her hair was pulled back from her face. She held up a small, white, paper bag and tilted her head at him. "Peace offering?" _

_Andy's eyes narrowed. "Is it poisoned?" The flicker of emotion in her eyes made him sigh. He stepped back and pushed the door wider. Andy stood against it and nodded toward the inside of his apartment. When she walked past him, he reflected again, on just how much he wished he could have something stronger than tylenol for his pain. He felt the anger well again, and he wondered how much of it was directed inwardly. He followed her into the apartment and pushed the door closed. _

_"How are you feeling?" She was looking at him, and the concern was almost too much. _

_"Hurts like a bitch," he smirked a little as he said the last, and gave her a pointed look. "What do you want, Captain?" _

_"Andy." She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Then she sighed. "I was worried about you." _

_"Oh? You were worried? Well, that's new." He walked over and lowered himself back onto the sofa. "Which part worried you more? The part where I almost died before you got to pin me with witness tampering, or the part where you had to actually clear me." _

_She inhaled sharply. Sharon dropped the bag onto the coffee table and shook her head. "This was a bad idea, obviously." Sharon turned and started back toward the door, but stopped. When she whirled around again, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You know, you really can be an ass. I don't know why I let myself forget that about you, but you can be so completely selfish sometimes. If you weren't such an absolute hothead, I wouldn't be put in the position of needing to clear you in the first place!" Her voice rose, and she pointed at him. "I am so completely fed up with you, I have had it up to here with your self righteousness, and your comments, _and_ your insults. Mostly, I'm just done, Andy. Do me a favor, and the next time you get sliced open in the middle of the night, don't call me." _

_Andy didn't know which part astonished him more. That she was yelling at him, or that she was actually mad. Sharon had never actually lost her temper with him before, and at some point, he realized that she was barely holding it together, and being angry was better than the alternative. He knew that one all too well. He stood up again, despite how much it cost him, physically, to do it, and moved to stop her before she could leave. His hand landed against the door before she could open it. Andy stood behind her. "I'm sorry." _

_She exhaled slowly. Sharon's jaw clenched. She pressed her eyes tightly closed, and when he tugged on her arm, she let him pull her back into the apartment. He drew her to the sofa and she sat when prompted. Sharon wouldn't look at him, instead she stared at her hands. "I was," she said quietly, "worried about you." _

_"I know." He reached for the bag she had practically thrown at him and opened it. His brows lifted at the contents. "Is that what I think it is?" _

_"Not that you deserve it." Her lips pursed, and she finally managed to lift her eyes. "I was trying to stop myself from coming over here, so I went home and made them. Unfortunately, those are the only ones I managed to salvage. I was _really_ worried." _

_She fluttered her lashes at him in that way that made him feel like more of an ass. Andy sighed. "I'm really sorry?" He gazed back at her, and his lips formed the crooked half-smile that usually got him out of trouble. "I'm an ass. I admit it." He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the thick, cake like brownies. He broke off a corner and put it in his mouth. He hummed in appreciation. "I forgot how good these were." Crack brownies, that's what they'd called them when they road together so many years ago. Sharon's own recipe that mixed dark chocolate and coffee with regular cocoa and created a little bit of heaven in a pan. _

_"I shouldn't stay," she replied. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. I know that I saw you earlier, but… you were running on a lot of adrenaline." Sharon reached out and lightly touched the bruised side of his face. "And a lot of anger," she added softly. _

_"Mostly just that you'd believe it." He took her hand and met her gaze. "I was pissed that you'd think that I could…"_

"I didn't." The familiar ache was behind her eyes again. "Andy, I tried to explain before. Those accusations cannot be ignored. My office is bound by law to look into each and every one. I spend a lot of time chasing down baseless claims, but for every one that I can disprove, there are also a lot that I can't. I never thought you were one of them. You're an arrogant hothead, but you aren't a dirty cop. It was never your integrity that I was questioning." 

_"Yeah." He leaned back when the effort to stay upright became too much. Andy winced and lifted his feet onto the coffee table. "Come here." He pulled her to him and curled his good arm around her. _

_"I really shouldn't stay," but she laid her head against his shoulder and turned her body into his side. _

_"I know." A small smile tugged at his lips. He slipped his hand into her thick hair and curled the long ends around his fingers. "Just sit here a minute. Keep me company. I'm in a lot of pain, you know." _

_She drew a sharp, shuddering breath. "Andy." Sharon lifted her head and stared at him. "You…" _

_"Shouldn't joke about that? Hey, not a lot I can do. Should see the other guy, remember?" He rolled his head on the back of the sofa and gazed at her. His brows drew together when he realized her eyes were wet. "Hey…" He reached up and cupped her cheek. "Don't do that. I'm not worth it." Andy didn't know what it was, what _this_ was, or why it wouldn't simply just go away. Why he couldn't stay mad at her, or why he still wanted her, even after twenty years and a lot of history, a lot of hard words and heated arguments. It still came back to this. It was an ache that went beyond the throbbing of the thirty stitches in his middle, or the eighteen in his arm. _

_It was, in all the long years that he had known her, the first time that _she_ had ever kissed _him_. He had resolved, the last time, that if it ever happened again, she would have to come to him. This was not exactly what he had in mind. His hand fisted in her thick hair, and as much as his mind protested it, for just a moment he let himself be lost in the salty sweetness of her tear-filled kiss. This time, there wasn't the abrupt end. She didn't shove him away from her, and they weren't left wanting. Her lips moved across his jaw, then to his neck, and then she was sitting with her head against his shoulder again and her body curled against his side. _

_More painful than his injuries was knowing how fleeting this moment would be. She would leave, and they would go back to _normal. _They would argue, he would snarl at her, and she would outwit him, in that way of hers. She would greet his temper with that cool smile that drove him to wanting to shake her, and they would simply exist. It wasn't a life. But it was all they had. _

_"Why won't you divorce him?" Andy had never asked her that before, and he was almost afraid to hear the answer. _

_"It's complicated." She shifted against his side and sighed. "I'm Catholic. No one in my family has ever divorced before, I'd be the first. It isn't the only reason, but it's a reason. I could get past that, but I don't want to give him half of everything just so he can gamble it away." Sharon grew silent. She sighed softly against him before continuing. "Sometimes, when he's actually trying, I can believe that he does love me, and he'll realize that he's too old for that life style and come home."_

He was right. He didn't want to hear it. The ache spread through him. "How long since he actually tried," he asked thickly. 

_"A while." She lifted her head and smiled sadly at him. "A couple of years. He swings into town when he wants something. Usually money. When he doesn't get it, he goes away again. It is what it is." _

_"It's not enough." He laid his hand against her cheek again, and his thumb stroked her lips. "You deserve better." _

_"It's what I have." She curled her fingers around his wrist and shrugged. "Besides, I got the best part of Jackson Raydor. Their names are Rick and Beth, and that made it worth it." She smiled at him, then stood abruptly. "I have to go." _

_"Yeah." He smiled, but it was bitter. "You're a married woman." _

_"I'm on call." She smiled sadly at the familiar shield that separated them. "Although, it should be a fairly peaceful night. You can't cause me any trouble laying here all banged up." _

_"Wanna bet?" He waggled his brows at her. "Try me, baby."_

"Behave." She pointed a finger at him from the door. "If I have to come back, I'm bringing the broom." 

_"Promises, promises." Andy flashed a lopsided grin at her. _

_"Eat your brownies and be a good boy." She called on her way through the door. _

_When he was left alone, Andy sank back into the sofa and sighed. He'd like to say he felt better, but they seemed hell bent on hurting each other with the reality of their situation. Rather than dwell on it too much, he reached for the white, paper sack and put his feet back up on the coffee table. A smile tugged at his lips. He'd save one for Provenza and not tell him where it had come from. That thought made him feel almost joyful._

The door opened behind Sharon and Rusty stood there. He rolled his eyes at them. "You guys get that no one is going to believe you're not having an affair when you do things like that?" He shook his head and made a disgusted face at them. "It's really gross, but at least do it inside where you won't be seen." Rusty turned away from the door and left it standing open as he walked back into the apartment. He went to the kitchen and got himself a bottle of water from the fridge.

"You told the kid?" Andy gave her a surprised look.

She swept her hands beneath her eyes, smoothing away the tears. "Not specifically. I told him the basics." Sharon frowned, if Rusty had inferred from what little she had told him that it was Andy that she was supposedly having the affair with - then who else would make that inference with less? It was troublesome. More reason to stop Jack and his lies, quickly. "He's going to find out eventually, I wanted him to hear it from me." She gestured back toward the apartment. "Do you want to come in?"

He did. Andy shook his head, however, and reached out to tuck a lock behind her ear. "I really do, but I can't. I shouldn't even be here. Gavin will have a fit if he finds out. I just wanted to make sure that you were… anyway." He couldn't say that she was okay, neither of them were. "I have to go. It's Thursday night."

"Ah." Sharon smiled, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Meeting night."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. "It keeps me honest. Tomorrow?"

"I'll be there," she nodded. "I'm sorry for worrying you. I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"Right." Andy turned away, but paused. "Sharon, bring your broom. Don't let him beat you down."

She smiled again, and this time her eyes lit with amusement. "I didn't think you all liked the broom."

"We have a new appreciation." He winked at her and left before he couldn't.

She watched him go, watched him round the end of the hall toward the elevators before sighing and stepping back into the apartment. With the door once again locked, Sharon went back to the sofa and dropped tiredly onto it. She sighed loudly and closed her eyes. The other end of the sofa shifted and the television came back on.

He glanced sideways at her and shook his head. If they only knew how obvious they were, but Rusty wasn't going to be the one to tell her. He'd text Lieutenant Provenza later. Let him do it. "Do we want Scary, Romantic, Weird, or Explosions?" He asked instead, while scrolling through the channel choices.

Sharon forced her eyes open again and reached for a pillow, once again getting comfortable. Television was the last thing on her mind, but she appreciated his effort. Maybe she did need to think about something other than this mess for a bit. She drew a breath and let it out slowly. "Explosions," she decided. "Definitely explosions." She didn't like Scary, her head ached too much for Weird, and anything Romantic was out of the question if she wanted to think about something other than her divorce and Flynn. She drew her legs up and curled around the pillow on her end of the sofa.

Rusty slanted a look at her and queued up a movie for them. Then he settled back on the sofa and got comfortable. He glanced over at Sharon a few minutes later and found her asleep. She hadn't even made it half way through the movie, and he figured that was to be expected. He heard her pacing at night, when she didn't think he was still awake. Rusty turned the movie off and slipped quietly off the couch. He dropped a blanket over her and decided he could finish the movie in his room, or see if any of his online chess pals were available for a game. First, he had a text to send.


	3. Chapter 3

The Good Wife - Chapter 3

by: Kadi

Rated: M

* * *

Andy was still working on his first cup of coffee when the pounding on his door interrupted him. He walked over and pulled it open, rolling his eyes when he found his partner there. "What?" He turned away and walked back to the kitchen. He poured another cup, and reached for his tie.

"You're an idiot." Provenza walked into the apartment and pushed the door closed, loudly, behind him. "I thought we talked about this a few years ago?" He scowled darkly at the other man. "We agreed you were going to stop chasing that particular skirt. Stick to the younger ladies, the ones who weren't married, didn't have a lot of baggage, and couldn't end your career."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Flynn scowled at him, although he knew full well. What he wanted to know was _how_ his partner knew about it. "Do you see any skirts laying around?"

"No, and maybe that's the problem." Provenza helped himself to a cup of the too strong coffee his partner had brewed. "I spoke to Rusty," he said.

"Of course you did," his cup landed hard against the counter top. "Because the damned kid can't keep his nose out of things that have nothing to do with him." It wasn't really the kid he was irritated with, but it was as good a target for his annoyance as any at the moment.

"The kid is worried about his guardian," Provenza stated with a scowl. "Rightfully so. She's got enough going on right now without you making it worse. Has it been so long since you got divorced that you forgot how much hell a vindictive ex can inflict on you?"

Andy snorted. "No, I remember every time I have to see the vindictive ex." He shook his head. "In this case, I am the hell that the ex is inflicting on her." He tossed what was left of his coffee into the sink and began working on his tie, knotting it with quick, jerky movements of his hands. "He's accusing her of having an affair. With me, for the last twenty-some-odd years. The bile he's spewing is that Beth is mine, and living with that lie all of these years drove him to drink and gamble his life away. The rotten son of a bitch wants to destroy her, and he knows that the best way to hurt her is to go through the kids."

Provenza knocked his knuckles against the counter top and considered that. It fit with what Rusty had told him, at least in the limited information that he had, and he figured that had to do with the Captain only giving him the barest of facts. What she didn't tell the kid is what the three of them knew all too well, it might not have been an affair, but it had come damned close a number of times. Then there was that thing that his third wife had used against him, that excuse she gave him for why he was such a rotten bastard. He never put much stock in it before, since she really was kind of crazy, but thinking about it now… he hated to give her any credit, but there was some truth in the words. "You know, Flynn…" Provenza grimaced. He hated thinking about any of this. This was going above and beyond as far as he was concerned. "You can cheat without actually… you know… cheating. Have the two of you considered that he might actually have some grounds for… you know, the infidelity claim?"

The dark look he shot his partner might have seared him alive, but that the old man was used to it, and had a thicker hide than most. Andy finished knotting his tie and jerked it roughly into place. The material chaffed against his neck, through his dress shirt, at the force he used. "No, we haven't," he bit out. "I might have kissed her a couple of times, but it never went any farther than that, she wouldn't allow it. She was still a married woman, and even when I could forget it, she wouldn't. We were friends, and only barely that. That's as far as it ever went."

"Okay, okay," he put his hands up and took a step back. That was one way to piss his partner off. Bring up the past and remind him how crappy it was. "I'm just putting it out there. I might not be the only one who thinks it." He leaned against the counter and watched his partner stalk around, getting ready for the office.

"They can think it if they want to," he snarled. "Nothing ever happened. Not for lack of me trying, but hell… if he didn't want her getting close to someone else, he shouldn't have left her alone all those years. He left her, not the other way around." Andy clipped his gun, in its holster, to his belt with a sigh. His anger turned to bitterness and he shook his head. "She spent a lot of years waiting for him to get his act together, and he wouldn't. I think she's probably right, it's the money he wants. She stood up to him this last time. He came back, and she let him. She gave him a chance and he blew it, again. Only this time, he actually opened his eyes and saw the line she was drawing in the sand. She didn't cave, she didn't bend, she gave him enough rope and he hung himself with it. His ego couldn't take it, and it can't take the fact that the bank of Sharon is officially closed to him, so he's after a settlement. She'll give it to him, before it's all said and done, if he pushes her hard enough, and he knows that." Andy reached for his badge and clipped it onto his belt as well. "She won't do it to save herself. She's not even going to do it to save me, but she'll do it for the kids. Before it's over with, she's going to have to tell Elizabeth what the asshole has done, and if we know Sharon, she'll do it sooner rather than later, so that she can mitigate the damage of Jack getting to her first. Or it someone else breaking it to her."

"I… wouldn't be so sure," Provenza said at length. He lifted his coffee cup and drained it before placing it in the sink with Flynn's. He walked around and sat on one of the stools at the bar that separated the small kitchen from the only slightly larger living room. "Not about the rest, I figure she'll tell the kids, it's not the kind of thing you can keep hidden long. Kids are nosy, if they get even a hint of it, they'll keep at her until they get all the details. I really don't care about that." He waved a hand. "The other part, the settlement, I don't know. There could be grounds for changing his mind. After I spoke to Rusty this morning, I made a call to our favorite high powered attorney. I gave him a little insight into a few things I know about a certain former public defender that we both despise, a little ammunition to add to the fire, so to speak."

Flynn's brows drew together. "What are you talking about? What insights?" He knew his partner didn't like Raydor, but he figured that was just his general dislike of lawyers.

"Oh, some names, some dates…" Provenza waved a hand in the air. "A few incidences I witnessed some years ago… nothing spectacular." He smirked, and it was a nasty upturn of his mouth. "Let's just say that when Gavin Baker gets done with our, not so friend, Jack, he's going to wish his wife had stayed in Internal Affairs and that I didn't… tolerate her, as much as I do."

"Is that right." Andy's hands landed on his hips. A slight smile quirked his lips. "Tolerate her, huh? Okay. Do tell… what ammunition have you given Gavin that is going to turn this whole thing around."

"Well." Provenza rubbed his hands together. "It was a long time ago, but I was on this case… and it was a dooze. A cop shot another cop, caught him with his wife. All very scandalous and completely embarrassing. We got the call in the middle of the night, and back then, the rules were a little more… in the air. It wasn't clear if it was a homicide or what, so Internal Affairs got rolled out too. The Captain was just a sergeant then, and it was before she started changing how IA and FID did things, so… anyway, we got there, and the wife was all in shock and barely coherent. Internal Affairs decided we'd split the case, Homicide would take the wife to the hospital and get her checked out, then take her statement. So anyway, the case is not important. It's just the reason I ended up at the hospital in the middle of the night. The thing is, I was at Malone's a few hours before. It was right after I split up with wife number 2, so I was spending a lot of the time with the boys down at Malone's. Now, I'm not one to go getting involved in other people's marriages."

Provenza pointed a finger at Flynn and shook it, "But, I do remember, quite clearly, that Jack was at Malone's that night. With a pretty little blonde from Hollywood Division. Well, Harry, you remember Harry right? The bartender that worked on the weekend. Anyway, so Harry makes this comment to Jack about his wife and what she will do to him if she catches him down there, and with another woman. To which our pal Jacky boy tells Harry the bartender that the wife is at work, and wouldn't care anyway. She's too busy busting other cops, and when she's not, she's too busy with the kids to care. Whatever, that's fine, a disgruntled husband is going to spew a lot of crap about the wife, I've done it. You've done it. We've all done it." He held up a hand when it looked like Flynn was going to interrupt. "Except, I get to the hospital with my partner and our victim's wife, and guess who we run in to?"

"Sharon." Andy frowned. "What, she came down to take over the case?" It wouldn't be the first time, and that would explain why the case stood out for his partner among thousands of others.

"No." Provenza clasped his hands in front of him and rocked back on his heels. "She was there with the kid. The little one, the girl. Middle of the night, and she's pacing the ER with a crying baby, while the other one is asleep in a chair nearby. She wasn't at work, but she was busy with the kids alright. Turns out, she had been off work for a few days, both kids had been sick and the little one had it worse. She spiked a high fever and the Captain ended up in the ER with her, while her husband was off playing with the pretty blonde…"

_Crowded emergency rooms were not his idea of a good time, and Lieutenant Provenza was beginning to think that maybe he had gotten the short end of this stick. That kid from Internal Affairs had stiffed him, and he was going to have to get even at some point. For the time being, he and his partner were stuck with the victim's wife and she definitely wasn't talking. She wasn't doing a whole lot more besides sniffling and staring into space. Now, because they thought they were getting off lucky, they were stuck in the ER full of sick idiots and crying kids. He'd rather be at home in bed. Even if bed was currently a sofa at his buddy's place while he and Sue figured out if they were filing or what. _

_A shrill cry made him wince, and he glanced over at a woman that was bouncing a toddler in her arms. She stood up and paced a few lengths in front of the chairs they were occupying and tried to soothe the child. The kid wasn't having any of it, she batted the woman's hands away and threw her head back to let go with another shrill sound. Her cheeks were flushed, and smeared with tears and snot, which she further smeared when she dropped her face to the woman's shoulder and rubbed it there while whining pitifully in between her louder cries. _

_"Mom, can't we go home?" The unhappy grumble came from the sleepy child that was curled on a chair nearby. He had a blanket wrapped around up and he blinked, blearily at the pair before laying his head down again. "I'm tired." _

_"I know, Ricky." She shifted the toddler in her arms and reached down to draw the blanket up beneath his chin. "Close your eyes baby. You can nap until they call for us." _

_He would not have recognized her, but for the voice, not with her hair pulled back into a sloppy, loose bun and wearing that oversized sweater and leggings. There was no makeup to speak of on her face, but the voice was unmistakeable. He had dealt with her a few times, and he had come to learn that the soft inflection was completely deceptive. He realized with some surprise that the tired mother with the kid that just needed to shut up was the Sergeant that was becoming the bane of his existence. _

_Provenza's eyes narrowed and he shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair he was occupying. The unsettling feeling in the pit of his gut had less to do with the ringing in his ears thanks to the crying baby, and more to do with the fact that he had laid eyes on the woman's husband just a few hours before. She sure didn't look like she was at work, and he had a feeling she didn't know why the husband wasn't here, helping, or at least at home where he could keep an eye on the kid that wasn't sick. His brows drew together in a dark scowl. It was none of his damned business. Except he didn't like idiots on principle. _

_"When is that going to be?" The little boy was whining. "I don't feel good, mom. I want to go home. My head hurts." He rubbed at his eyes and yawned widely. "Can't you call daddy to come get me?" _

_"No, Ricky." She sat down beside him and resettled the crying toddler on her lap so that she could run a hand over the boy's head. "Daddy is working tonight. We'll go home soon." _

_She looked up and that was when she met his gaze, and realized that she was being watched. He saw her face pale, not that it was possible for her to lose anymore color, or so he thought. Apparently he was wrong about that. She blanched, and looked away, embarrassed. She bounced the crying toddler on her knees and stroked the other one's hair with her free hand. He didn't know what possessed him to get up and go over there, but he told his partner to keep an eye on their witness and he walked over to drop into the chair on her other side. "Sergeant, fancy meeting you here. Full moon draws out all kinds, I guess." _

_"Lieutenant." She regarded him cooly, or at least she attempted to. "I'm afraid you're going to have to go try elsewhere if you're looking for an argument. I simply haven't got the time or the energy to indulge you." She frowned at him. "Why _are _you here anyway?" _

_He waved a hand at the woman with his partner. "Witness is in shock. We need to get her checked out before we get her statement. Make sure she's not impaired. She saw her husband shoot her boyfriend. Both of them are cops, so… your guys are there, our guys are there. It's an unholy mess, and I got the short end of the stick. Tell me something, if a guy shoots another guy, for messing with his wife, is it homicide or not? Does it matter what his job is?" _

_"You're asking the wrong person." She sighed tiredly and lifted her daughter to shift her in her arms again. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but now really isn't a good time." _

_"What? You got something else to do?" He made a face at her. "Looks like that one is asleep again," he nodded to the boy. "This one doesn't care if I pick your brain. Do you?" He didn't get close enough to catch any germs, but he caught her attention and she stopped screeching, at least. She continued to whimper and sniffle, but it wasn't threatening his eardrums anymore. She stared back at him, green eyes and dark curls, and pretty except for the flushed, blotchy, and damp skin. "See. She thinks you should answer me." _

_The Sergeant sighed. "I don't know what you want me to say. Anytime an officer fires off his gun he should be held accountable for the result, and it should be deemed justified or not. When it's not, he should be held responsible and made to face the consequences. Otherwise, we're no better than the people you investigate on a daily basis. If the officer shot a man, and killed him, for sleeping with his wife… then yes, that is homicide, but it becomes murky when he could be investigated by his colleagues. We get involved to keep the lines clear, and to make sure that the DA's office has unquestionable evidence." _

_"Huh." He nodded slowly. "So what they've been saying is true." Provenza slanted a look at her. "You have been drinking the kool-aid."_

_She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, Lieutenant. I have been drinking the kool-aid, I've gone over to the dark side. I've joined the rats on the sinking ship of police despair," she said it so blandly, that it was obvious she had said it before. "Is that all you wanted to know?" _

_"For now." He sat back in his seat. "But I'm just going to keep sitting here, at least until they call you back, because that one likes me." He nodded to the toddler, "and as long as she likes me, she's not threatening to burst my ear drums, or giving me a headache."_

"She doesn't know any better." Sharon shifted the baby on her lap again and tried to get her to lay with her head on her shoulder. The baby wasn't having any part of it. She lifted her head and continued to stare at the stranger. "Otherwise, I'm sure she wouldn't be the least fascinated." 

_"That might have stung, just a little bit, if you didn't look like you were about to fall over." Provenza made a face at her. "But you just keep trying." _

_"Raydor." A nurse appeared from behind a closed door, holding a clip board and looking around the crowded ER waiting room. _

_"Right here." Sharon stood up with her daughter and managed to, expertly, juggle her, the baby's blanket, and a diaper bag. Then she shook her son awake and maneuvered him and his things toward the nurse. "You've been saved, Lieutenant." _

_"My relief is more immense than you could ever imagine," he snarked at her back. He watched them go and tapped his fingers against his knees. Then he got up and walked back over to rejoin his partner and their witness. She wasn't the only wife stuck taking care of a sick kid while the husband was messing around on her, and he had no doubt that the husband was messing around after what he saw earlier in the evening. But, that husband was a sleazy, slimy excuse for a lawyer. Maybe he'd just keep a closer eye on the goings on at Malone's. At least for a little bit. A person never knew when a little extra information might come in handy._

He smirked at his partner again. "You see, you might not have been having an affair, but someone else was. Her name is Sarah Lewis, and I know that Jack had a thing going with her for a few years. She's still a cop, married now and with kids of her own. But she owes me a favor, so I'm cashing it in. Gavin won't ask her to admit to the affair, but he is going to ask her to corroborate a witness statement that Jacky boy was neglectful of wife and children even before he split."

"Remind me to never piss you off." Flynn shook his head. "The things you know about all of us could keep half this city busy for years after we're all dead and buried."

"One of the advantages of having been around for so long," Provenza stated with a grin. "I did't have to work in Internal Affairs to know where all the bodies are buried, and where all the nastiest little secrets are hidden. Now let's go, I'm starving and we've got time to stop for breakfast. I'll drive." He started for the door and waved at his partner to join him.

"So what," Flynn grabbed his jacket and followed him. "Guy is stepping out on his wife while she's taking care of sick kids, and you decide you don't like him? There's got to be more to it than that."

"I don't care if a guy wants to cheat on his wife, it's none of my business," Provenza shrugged. "But I don't care what side of the field she was playing on, she was still a cop. Wicked Witch or not, she didn't deserve that, or what he's doing now."

"Hey," Flynn tapped his shoulder. "We should stop and get her a new broom. Might cheer her up."

"While we're at it, we can get you a little red cap," He smirked. "You know, to go with your flying monkey suit."

Flynn pulled open the passenger side door to slip into the car. "Like you're any better these days."

"Just for that, you can buy breakfast," Provenza grumbled. He scowled at him. "I'm not the one walking around like a love sick puppy. That's all on you, my friend, and I suggest you put it aside, at least until all this is over and done. Then you can go back to being the idiot that you are."

"Don't be cranky because she likes me best," he grinned.

"Shut up," the older man groused. "You're going to make me sick." He pulled out of the parking lot. "She most definitely likes _me_ best. You, she just keeps around because no other division will have you."

Flynn laughed as they headed toward the diner that lay between his place and the station. "That's probably true."


	4. Chapter 4

The Good Wife - Chapter 4

by: Kadi

Rated: M

* * *

There were days when retirement felt like a good idea, and other days when Detective Julio Sanchez was pretty satisfied with his work. Like the others, he considered, from time to time, whether or not he should consider going into another department. He could do pretty well in SIS, or he could go back to Gang Intelligence. He wasn't too old for that. Except that there were days when he did feel like maybe he was. The most recent case had him considering it again. It was a tough one, and had taken its toll on all of them. A high school prank gone wrong, and a fifteen year old girl was being put in the ground way too soon. Idiot kids, with too much time on their hands would end up doing time in jail. It was all so stupid and senseless, and cases such as this one made him tired of all the death and stupidity that they faced in the world. He wondered sometimes why he still did it. Then he would think about all the victims, the people they could have saved, and the ones that would be saved because another lowlife was behind bars. Or he would think about Oscar, his brother, another young life ended and gone too soon. He would remember why he kept coming back.

Or he would think about the team, the guys whose backs he watched every day. Julio would think about Mike, with his wife and his kid. He would come in so Mike could go home again. He thought about Buzz, still a little naive after all these years, and that made it worth it. Or his new partner. Sykes wasn't so bad, a little too perky, or a little too eager sometimes, but damned good in a fight. She was getting it, she needed a little more help, and she could be frustrating sometimes, but in another few years, he thought she might be a pretty good homicide detective. There were the others too, Lieutenants Provenza and Flynn, and everything the whole team had been through together and it brought him back. He even thought about what the Captain brought to the table, and how he'd never be able to win that bean bag off Flynn if he transferred or left the department. It was one of the most badass things he'd ever seen, and she wasn't even their Captain at the time. Julio still felt a little guilty when he thought about how he didn't always much like her. She was good people, and she worked as hard as the rest of them, and was smarter than - he at least - had ever given her credit for.

Julio had a new appreciation for her rules, he felt they probably all did since that stupid law suit. It kept them out of trouble, and sort of made it a little more interesting to do their jobs. It was harder, sure, but a little more challenging sometimes. Not that there weren't times he wanted to take her rules and shake her with them, but then, he wasn't the only one who felt like that. Except, lately, the Captain was floating around like a bit of a ghost. That broom that Flynn and Provenza had taped to the outside of her office had gotten them a laugh. For a little while, her mood had seemed buoyed, but then that lawyer, Baker, had shown up and she was all… quiet and tense again after he left. Julio was pretty sure he knew what was going on, just as sure as he was that it wasn't any of his business.

That was a few days ago, and the older Lieutenants were taking turns trying to provoke a response out of her. The broom was only the start. Sanchez could only shake his head at their antics. After the broom, they had brought in a hat. It had been pinned to the white board, a black witch's hat. The rest of them didn't know what had gotten into those two, but it was almost working. She had taken it down and slapped it against Provenza's shoulder with a roll of her eyes, right before she dropped it onto his head. Buzz had gotten a picture of that, and the Captain was threatening to use it against Provenza if he didn't stop leaving her such horrible gifts. After all, she only bought her hats on Rodeo Drive.

It had been a hard week, that was for sure. Julio was looking forward to wrapping up his case notes and getting out of the office. He was thinking about going down to the Fifth Street Grill and watching the game on one of the big screens while enjoying a cold beer and good steak. He was considering asking the others to join him, maybe even see if the kid wanted to tag along too. The Captain might not go for it, but the kid wasn't on lock down anymore. With the Stroh trial a footnote, the stalker dead, and all the badness of the last two years behind them, Rusty needed a little fun too. Someone had to teach the kid how to have a good time. Life couldn't just be all about chess. Besides, the Captain could use a little bit of fun too, and maybe he could get the Lieutenants to talk her into it.

"Excuse me." It was a soft voice, almost lilting and slightly musical. They didn't get a lot of visitors on the ninth floor anyway, and definitely not after five in the evening. She stood near Lieutenant Provenza's desk, and waited patiently for him to acknowledge her. Where he sat, at the adjacent desk, Julio got a good look at her. She was tall, what he'd heard Flynn call willowy. She was thin, a little too thin by his standards, but the sweater and jeans that she wore showed off curves.

"Yes?" Provenza drew out the syllable when he looked up at her. His brows lifted in askance, only to immediately draw together. "Can we help you, Miss?" The last thing they needed was someone walking in to confess something, or otherwise get on their nerves. He managed, somehow, to sound only slightly exasperated. He was, like the others, wanting out of there before it got too late.

She flashed a smile at him, bright and friendly. "Actually, yes. I'm looking for…" She trailed off when, looking around the room, she spotted the reason behind her arrival. "You know, never mind." The young lady's smile softened, and she strode away from them.

"Hey, miss…" Provenza half stood. "You can't just go—"

"Hey, lady!" The girl's voice projected louder, and lost some of the musical quality to take on an only slightly deeper tone. It was directed at the woman who had emerged from her office, only to stop at the closest desk.

Sharon looked up and whirled around at the sound. She paused in what she was saying to Lieutenant Flynn, and her eyes widened in immediate recognition. She dropped the file in her hand onto his desk and drew a deep breath. She had told Elizabeth specifically to _not_ come to Los Angeles. Her daughter had obviously chosen not to listen. "What are you doing here?"

The tall brunette shrugged, even as she strode forward and into a hug. "We wrapped the show this week, and there was nothing to do in New York. I was bored, so I decided to surprise you." Was her mother thinner? Did she look just a little too brittle around the edges? Elizabeth held on tightly.

"I'm surprised." Sharon leaned back and got a good look at her. "You're too thin."

"I could say the same thing." Elizabeth arched a brow at her. "I'm supposed to be this thin. You're not. I'd be willing to bet that I've got at least five pounds on you right now."

"I am standing right here, aren't I?" Provenza looked around the room. "I didn't just disappear the moment the girl began speaking. I mean, honestly, you can see me right?" He waved a hand in front of Sanchez.

"I see you, Sir." He smirked. "If the pretty girl doesn't see you, nothing I can do about that."

"I'm sorry." Elizabeth half turned and fixed him with a smile that was only partly apologetic. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to completely ignore you, and why am I sorry for ignoring him?" She glanced at her mother and tilted her head. "Is he the one?"

"No." Sharon pressed her lips together. "Most definitely not. Although you have met before, but you were just a baby then. Lieutenant Provenza," she began pointing out the members of her squad. "Buzz, Detective Sykes, Detective Sanchez, Lieutenant Tao, and Lieutenant Flynn," she indicated the man at the desk beside her. Each of them had stood as she made the introduction. "My daughter, Elizabeth."

"Oh!" Elizabeth turned and held out a hand. Her eyes were lit, bright green with mischief. "So, you're Flynn. Nice to meet you. I'm the illegitimate spawn of the illicit and tawdry affair that you're _not_ having with my mother."

"Elizabeth!" Sharon pinched the bridge of her nose. There were actually a few people who hadn't known, most of her squad, to be precise. That was no longer the case, thanks to her daughter's big mouth and very odd sense of humor.

"Oh come on," Elizabeth shot a look at her. "It's all going to come out in the end, and if I can't make jokes about it, no one can. Hello, this is my entire life that jerk-off is screwing around with. I should get a little bit of mileage out of it."

Flynn leaned against the side of his desk. He scratched at his forehead and sighed. "I think your mother might object to you blurting it out in front of the entire squad. They were unaware of the specifics."

"Sorry." Elizabeth shrugged. "That I didn't know."

"Wait a minute." Sanchez was on his feet and scowling darkly. "Your husband is saying that you had an affair, with Flynn?" He made a face. "You have way better taste than that, ma'am."

"Hey!" Flynn scowled at him. "Not helping, Julio."

"Alright, that's enough." Sharon waved them all back to their desks. "You all have work to finish. I suggest you get back to it. You," she pointed at her daughter. "My office."

"This is the part where I should remind you," Elizabeth stated, "that I am too old to be grounded." She turned on her heel and started in that direction.

"We'll see about that." Sharon followed her. Once they were inside the office, she ran a hand through her hair. "This is also the part where I remind you that the _jerk off_ is still your father."

"Not according to him." Elizabeth folded gracefully into a chair. "The other guy is cute. Mom, you hussy."

Sharon rolled her eyes at her daughter. "I told you to stay in New York, Beth. I didn't want you in the middle of this mess. Your father has lost touch with reality, it doesn't mean that you have to come running to Los Angeles and—"

"What? Confront the jerk that made our lives a living hell when I was a kid? Get in the face of the guy who called me for money two years ago, and hasn't spoken to me since, just because I said no? I wouldn't have bothered answering the phone last summer if I had known it was him calling and not you. Mom, wake up and smell the estrangement. There is really nothing that he can do that can hurt me anymore. I'm over it. Rick feels differently, he actually remembers what it was like when Jack was around, but I don't have those memories. He wasn't there when I was a kid. He came and he went, and that is all that I remember about him. And I can say that because I've spent the last three years in therapy coming to terms with the fact that it has nothing to do with me, my biological sperm donor is just an asshole."

"Language." But Sharon's eyes had widened. "I didn't know you were seeing a therapist." She walked around and sank into the chair beside Elizabeth's. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"It wasn't about you," she shrugged. "I was trying to figure out some things about myself, and it helped. I went through this period where I was terrified of being on stage, and at the end of the day, it was just too much stress and not enough down time. I kept seeing him, after figuring all that out, and we started working through some other issues too. Like Jack."

"I see." Sharon reached out and smoothed her girl's dark hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm afraid this is my fault."

"No, it isn't." Elizabeth smiled. "My issues with him are mine, and they're all because of him. It's why I'm here. I want to look him in the eye and tell him that I think he is an absolute bastard and we are all well rid of him." She rolled her eyes and said it before her mother could, "Yes, I know, language."

"When did you grow up?" Her eyes filled, but Sharon blinked back the tears. Instead she cupped her daughter's face and kissed the top of her head.

"Well, it had to happen eventually. Don't get all weepy, it's embarrassing."

"Yes, of course," Sharon rolled her eyes. "How could I forget. Mustn't embarrass the offspring."

"Well, at your age, I'm not surprised. They say that memory is the first thing to go," Elizabeth smiled sweetly, fluttered her lashes. "Anyway, I stopped and saw Gavin. He doesn't think that we have to do the paternity test, but I'm game if that changes."

"Elizabeth." Sharon exhaled quietly. "I really don't want you involved. This has nothing to do with you. I only told you so that you would hear it from me; I didn't want you blindsided."

"Yes, yes…" She waved a hand through the air. "That's what Gavin said. He also mentioned a contingency plan, but wouldn't tell me what it is. Knowing the two of you, and what you're like, I'm sure it's going to be a good one. In any event, I'm out of it. But I'll stick around for a while, just in case."

"Thank you, honey." Sharon stood up and moved around behind her desk. "I can't leave for a little while yet. Do you mind terribly waiting?"

"Of course not." She stood up and stretched. "I dropped my things at the apartment already. I'll just hang around here and see how much more I can manage to embarrass you. I need to get to know not-bio-dad. We should really bond." She flashed a wide grin and flounced out of the office.

"Oh god." Sharon covered her face. When Sharon dropped her hands and peered through the open blinds to the squad room. She spotted her daughter standing between Buzz and Julio and found an entirely new reason to worry, at least until Lieutenant Provenza shooed them both away and began maneuvering her daughter toward the break room. Sharon reached for her phone and sent a text to Rusty, so that he wouldn't be blindsided by Elizabeth's visit. He always felt awkward when her kids were in town, not that they were very often.

Sharon sighed when her attention turned back to the stack of reports on her desk that she still had to read through and sign off on. Her shoulders slumped. The paperwork was one of the worst parts of her job. She placed her chin in her hand and reached for her pen again. It was shaping up to be a long night.

_"Is he here?" Her long hair bounced around her as she hurried up to peek out at the parents that were filling the seats of the small auditorium. "He said he was coming." She stood on tiptoe and scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face. _

_"He said that he would try," Sharon drew her eleven year old daughter away from the curtain and pulled her back into the wings. "Now sit still." She maneuvered the girl, tall, but slight for her age, onto a stool. Sharon began pulling a brush through her hair. She knew that Jack wasn't going to show up, he never did, but Elizabeth was still at an age where she believed him when he said that he would. "Your father is working a lot of long hours right now, honey, and he might not be able to get away."_

_"He said he would come, mom." She hooked her heels onto the bottom rung of the stool and bounced nervously. "Ouch!" She winced when her hair was pulled too tightly. _

_"You move, it hurts." Sharon had to pull it tightly and then wrapped a band around the long tail, which she began twisting into a tight, neat bun. "Elizabeth, I don't want you to get your hopes up. I know that your father said he would _try_ to make it, but he has said that before." It never actually worked, preparing the children for disappointment, but she at least felt as though she had tried, and hated herself a little less when they were hurt._

_"Mom." She waited until the pin was in place, then turned and looked up at her, eyes wide. "I got the lead. He has to come." _

_Maybe she was trying too hard, maybe it was her fault that her children kept expecting the best of their father, only to be disappointed by him. Sharon stroked her cheek gently. "I'm sure he'll do his very best," she said softly. _

_Elizabeth Raydor chewed on her bottom lip. "He always does his very best?" _

_"Mmhm." Sharon couldn't bring herself to say it. Instead she placed her hand atop her daughter's head and turned it back around. "Now, sit still. We're almost finished here." She continued placing pins, and blinked quickly to force back her tears. When she was finished Sharon stood back and studied her handiwork. "Perfect. Now… let's see what we can do about makeup." _

_Elizabeth turned on the stool, so that she was facing her mother. "I can do that, you know." _

_"Yes," Sharon chuckled. "I've seen your attempts at makeup, honey. Not happening." She opened the makeup bag and pulled out the thick, stage base, before dropping the bag into Elizabeth's hands. "Hold that." She dabbed base onto the sponge and began applying it to her daughter's face. "There is something profoundly wrong with putting makeup on a child. If you didn't love ballet so much…" _

_"I wouldn't be allowed to wear it until I'm sixteen, I know." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Did gram say that to you, when you were dancing? Or didn't you have makeup back then." _

_Sharon swept the sponge across her daughter's nose, then tapped it. "Cheeky." She shook her head, but smiled. "She did, but we didn't wear as much as you girls do, the lights were different then." She pressed her pinky against her daughter's mouth. "Quit while you're ahead." _

_Elizabeth laughed. Her attention was captured by the arrival of her brother. "Is he here?" _

_"Nope." Ricky walked up, shoved his hands into his pockets, and craned his head at her. "There's goop on your face, squirt." He looked at his mother and shrugged. At fourteen he already had two inches on her and was still growing. "I got us some seats. You almost done?" _

_"In a few minutes. Why don't you go ahead and get seated." Sharon sighed quietly. Jack still had a few minutes, but she wasn't expecting him to show up anyway. Obviously, Ricky wasn't expecting it either. "I'll be right out." _

_"Yeah, sure." The teenager shrugged. "There's also something growing out of your head. Always knew you were an alien." _

_"Richard." Sharon fixed him with a look. She was not in the mood for one of their arguments. _

_"It's okay mom." Elizabeth smiled sweetly. "Little Ricky just wishes that he could be as awesome as me. He is only halfway decent, I am superb." _

_"Keep dreaming dancing bean, keep dreaming!" Ricky smirked as he made his way back out to the auditorium. _

_"You kids…" Sharon gripped her daughter's chin and tilted her face up. "Now quit talking, and quit moving." _

_"Hey, mom…" Elizabeth chewed on the corner of her lip. "Will you try calling him? When you're done?" _

_She inhaled deeply and focussed on smoothing the base along her daughter's hairline. "Of course," she managed after a moment. "I'll call him as soon as we're done here. Now quiet. You don't want me messing this up." _

He didn't show up that night, or any other night. Elizabeth reflected back on all the different ways and times that her father had disappointed her while nursing the cup of coffee. The break room was silent, and smaller than she might have imagined, but it wasn't bad for a police station. At least, for the real life kind and not the television representation. Too bad there wasn't a cappuccino machine. Plain ground coffee would have to suffice, as long as there was enough cream in it.

Elizabeth turned the paper cup in her hands and stared into it. What she told her mother wasn't untrue, but pulling it off with so little emotion had taken a lot out of her. She had spent some time in therapy over the last few years, but it was New York, people without therapists were the ones to worry about. At some point she stopped expecting disappointment when dealing with her father and just became resigned to it. Much, she imagined, as her mother had done. She couldn't pick out even one time that he had ever watched her dance, or Rick play ball. He wasn't there when they graduated from High School, or when they dropped Rick off at college, or when either of them graduated, or even when her mother flew with her to New York the first time that she auditioned for the American Ballet Theater.

He was never there. That was the one fact that stood out in her memory. Not for any of the good things. Elizabeth did remember the arguments, the barely concealed voices coming from her mother's bedroom on those occasions when her father was at home. She remembered her mother crying, and her brother angry. Those were the only memories that she had of her father. They were all well rid of him.

Andy Flynn paused just outside the break room. He considered the empty cup in his hand, but when he thought about the case files waiting on his desk, there was no way he was getting through them without a refill. He almost considered going down to Robbery-Homicide and raiding their kitchen, but he didn't want to put up with the smart mouths. His lips pursed while he studied the young woman seated at the center table in the room. There was such a look of profound sadness on her face, it was hard to reconcile her with the laughing, teasing woman they had met just an hour before.

He watched her gaze shift, there was an iPad on the table in front of her. When she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear he was struck by just how much like her mother she looked. It was hard to see anything of Jackson in her face. She seemed to be all Sharon. Especially when she realized she was being watched and her features schooled before the bright, cheerful smile returned. Yes, she was definitely her mother's daughter.

Andy pushed into the break room and headed toward the coffee maker. "Sorry, running on fumes," he held up the empty cup.

"Not at all." She drew the iPad toward her. "I'm crashing the joint, not the other way around."

"Wow, that was almost authentic." He turned and leaned a hip back against the counter. "Almost New York, you need to go a little harder on the consonants though."

"If I were going for Brooklyn, yeah," She grinned, and looked up at him through her lashes. "I'm a Manhattan girl."

"Figures." He shook his head at her. "All the girls want to live in Manhattan now."

"Don't worry, Brooklyn still has the best pie," She propped her chin in her hand. "I'm betting that you're a Jersey boy, though."

"You're good," his brows lifted in surprise. "Know a few of those do you?"

"Shh…" Her grin widened, and her eyes sparkled in a way that reminded him of her mother again. "Don't tell mom. They've got the best dogs."

"Pizza and hot dogs." His head tilted. "What kind of dancer are you?"

"The healthy eating kind," she laughed. "I mean healthy as in _a lot_, not as in choices. Although, there's this little place just across the river in Union City," she leaned forward and her eyes lit up. "Little Italian shop, called…"

"Casa di Napoli," Andy laughed. "Yeah, I know it. God, it's been years. Are they still in that place over on 32nd street?"

"That's the one." She smiled brightly. "They have got the best spinach and four cheese cannelloni that I have ever had. It's a little inconvenient sometimes that they're cash only, but the food…"

"They're still doing that?" He shook his head. "Wow, way to _not_ come into the twenty-first century. Geez, way to go kid, now I'm hungry." Andy lifted his coffee cup to his lips.

"I know," she laughed. "I'm craving lobster ravioli." Elizabeth looked at her watch. "But I would settle for a pizza if mom gets out of here in the next hour."

"It shouldn't be much longer," he assured. "She's usually out of here by half past. She doesn't like leaving the kid to fend for himself."

"Rusty, right." Elizabeth's head inclined. "Is he still being a smart-mouthed brat? Last time I was here, Thanks Giving before last, he wasn't, what is the word that I am looking for…" Her lips pursed and she tapped her fingers against them. "Oh, right, as grateful for that living arrangement as he could have been."

"Nah, the kid is alright." Andy shrugged. "Or we've gotten used to him." He thought about it for a moment. "No, I think it's all worked itself out now. More than, actually. He still resorts to sarcasm when he's not comfortable, but hell, we all do. He fits right in around here."

"Good," she shrugged. "Then I won't worry about it." She folded her hands together and leaned forward, crossing her legs beneath the table. "So tell me something, Andy Flynn from Jersey, who is _not_ my biological father. If you and my mom have not been having an affair - and I believe her when she says that you did not, and are not, sleeping together. Why does my sperm donor think that you did and are?"

Andy choked on his coffee and immediately reached for several napkins. "I beg your pardon," he wheezed.

"You heard me. I do not stutter, Lieutenant." Her head inclined and she lifted her brows at him. "I think I deserve the right to ask, and to know the answer."

"Okay, first of all…" He wiped coffee off his tie. "Don't look at me like that. It's creepy. Second," Andy wadded up the napkins and tossed them into the trash. "Only your mother has the right to use that tone of voice with me and any of the other guys around here. As to the rest, I'm not sure that I'm the right person to be answering those questions. You should really be taking this up with Sharon."

"Sharon is it." Her lips pursed. If her grandparents hadn't bought her Lasik for her twenty-first birthday, she knew that she could have put on her glasses and really creeped him out. "Let's just level with each other here, Lieutenant. Do you really think she's going to tell me anything? You have met her, yes? We are talking about the same woman? You call her Sharon, I call her mom, others use the word Captain, and then there are those who run away in fear. Yet, they all describe the same woman, surprisingly enough."

"Okay, seriously." Andy pointed at her. "Stop it." It was too disturbing for words, and if he were honest with himself, he was reminded of Sharon from twenty years ago. "Look, kid, you want answers. I don't blame you. I'm not the person to ask. I can't explain for you what goes on inside Jack's head, or if anything is going on inside Jack's head. Your mom and I have known each other for a long time. We're friends. That's all there is to it."

"Really." She continued to watch him closely. Elizabeth didn't buy it for a second. "Friendly enough that the sperm donor thinks he has an adequate enough case of infidelity?"

Andy ran a hand over his hair. Damn she was like her mother. "We were partners for over a year, it was before you were born. When she got pregnant with you, she had to ride a desk for a while. After that, she transferred to Internal Affairs. I guess he thinks that the timing will prove his case. I don't know, Elizabeth. Your mother and I are friends. She was always faithful to your father."

There was something in the way that he spoke of it, the harder inflection of his voice. Something that belied simple friendship, but Elizabeth believed most of what he said. Aside from that, she knew her mother. She lived in a world where some things had no gray area, there was right and there was wrong, there was married and not married. Being separated was just a way of providing financial security for all of them, it was a stop gap measure for her father's gambling problem and its effect on his family. Elizabeth tapped her nails against the side of her paper coffee cup. "Yes, I believe that she was." The young woman shrugged. "Maybe she shouldn't have been." When he choked on his coffee again, she laughed merrily.

When Sharon stepped into the break room, Andy was cursing under his breath and wiping coffee from the front of his suit, while her daughter watching in amusement. "What did you do?" It was directed at the latter.

"What?" She was all innocence now, wide green eyes and sweet smile. "We were just bonding. Isn't that right, Andy Flynn from Jersey."

Sharon turned in time to see him rolling his eyes. "I'm so sorry. I wish that I could explain her behavior, but I'm afraid that we would be here all night."

"Don't worry about it." He smirked. "Although, I should point out, this is the first time you've ever apologized to me for someone else's behavior. Usually you're apologizing _for_ me, not the other way around. I'm thinking we should go along with that paternity test though, just to make sure that there was, in fact, a father. Right now, I'm leaning toward the conclusion that you were cloned."

"You wouldn't be the first." Sharon turned and swung an arm toward the door. "Elizabeth. Let's go. We can stop and pick up dinner on the way home. Rusty is requesting burgers, but I am sure that between the two of us we can convince him that it is not, in fact, its own food group."

"Let's get Italian." She grinned as she slipped her iPad into her large purse and carried her coffee with her once the bag was thrown over her shoulder. "I'm having a sudden, inexplicable craving." She wriggled her fingers at Andy as she walked by. "See ya around, not-bio-dad."

Sharon looked skyward and inhaled deeply. Her arm fell against her side and she shook her head. When she looked at Andy again, her look was full of apology. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Don't be." Andy tossed the wad of napkins into the trash for the second time that evening. "She has a right to… express her issues with all of this however she can. Don't apologize for her, Sharon. She's just a kid, and she's had the rug yanked out from under her by one of the last people who ever should. It's… it's fine. Go, have dinner with your kids, get out of this place and just be a mom for a few hours."

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you, Andy." Sharon backed out of the break room and pulled the door closed behind her. With any luck, she'd catch up with Elizabeth before she spread anymore mayhem.


	5. Chapter 5

The Good Wife - Chapter 5

By: Kadi

Rated: M

* * *

Outside of the small, civil and family court, Gavin Baker paced impatiently. He checked his watch and tapped his fingers against his leg. It wasn't the first time he had ever had to deal with a tardy client, but at the moment, he was wondering why he continued to represent those that worked in professions that continued to wreak havoc upon his schedule. The familiar staccato beat of heels against tile drew his attention and he turned. "Well, it's about time."

"I know, _I know_." Sharon put her hands up in front of her. "I apologize, it couldn't be helped. I had an interview that ran long and, well, let's leave it at that." When she reached him, she sighed. "I'm here now."

"Yes, well, be that as it may," he curled a hand around her upper arm and drew her into the courtroom. "We barely have five minutes to go over my notes before we get started. I'm not doing this just out of the goodness of my heart, you know, if you want to get out of this unscathed, then you need to make allowances, sweetie." They stopped just inside and he took a good look at her. "You wore the blue cashmere, that's a good touch."

The blue cashmere blend suit was not one of her favorites, the skirt was a little shorter than she preferred, for one. But the color softened her appearance, and it was designer without appearing to be. Gavin wanted her to appear demure, and it was the best that she could do when she had a closet full of power suits. She shook her hair back and sighed. "So glad that you approve."

"I do." He tilted his head at her. "Okay, let's review shall we. We're going to go with our counter to start. Since Jack hasn't bothered to reply, we don't know if he's willing to accept. If he continues to threaten his original disclosure statement, we're going to settle, yes?"

"Yes," Sharon exhaled. "Under the express condition that he withdraw his claims, and we file under irreconcilable differences."

"I don't like it." Gavin frowned. "I could win this at trial. He would be begging you to let him out of it with nothing, and possibly offering to pay you before the end."

"I know," her lips curved into a gentle, but sad smile. "Gavin, I have no doubt that you could destroy Jack in court. I just don't want to drag this out. I want it done. My kids deserve better than a long, drawn out court battle."

"So do you," he reminded her with a small smile. "Okay, leave it all to me." He took her elbow this time and maneuvered her to the front of the small courtroom. "Don't look at him," he murmured quietly. "Don't give him the satisfaction."

Jack was already there, of course he was. Sharon kept her eyes focused on the table. She was well accustomed to ignoring Jack. She dropped her purse into one of the chairs at the table at the front of the room, and slipped into another. Gavin placed the documents she needed to review in front of her and she busied herself with reading them, even if she could feel his eyes boring in to her. Despite what her friends might say, she really was the larger fool of the two of them. The last time he was in town, she allowed herself to be drawn in again, and for just a moment she had believed he could be the man she always hoped he would become.

_She was prepared this time to face him with the cold resolve of a woman that was finished with his promises, hardened against his sweet words. Sharon told herself every time he stepped into her life that it was the last time._

"You are moving back to LA?" _The flutter of her heart felt almost like a betrayal. Why, why after so long could he still get to her? Hope was something she couldn't control. It couldn't be stamped down, or boxed away. She couldn't keep it on a shelf, and try though she might, it had peeked out behind the many layers of memories and disappointments. What Sharon could do was not let him see it. How many chances had she given him? How many of them had he thrown back in her face. But that almost boyish look, the little hopeful glint in his eyes when he told her that he was working in her city again… She wanted to believe him. _

He only stays as long as it takes to get what he wants.

_How true that was. Yet he kept returning, and she kept allowing it. It was one of those things she told Rusty that she could not explain. _

_Yet he stayed longer this time. Sharon was jaded and cynical where her husband was concerned, but he appeared to be trying. He spoke to their children, at her continued insistence. They didn't want to talk to him, he was right about that, but he did it. He stayed. He didn't run as he normally did when she attempted to force Ricky and Beth on him. _

_Sharon started to believe again. _

_Slowly, by small degrees she let the bricks of her tightly molded wall come down. In his interactions with Rusty she saw a little bit of what might have been, and maybe she was wistful. Perhaps she was dreaming again and had already lost far too much of her objectivity to see beyond the hopes of a boy who just wanted a normal life. Maybe she let herself get caught up in it. _

_So much that she didn't lock her bedroom door as she had been doing since Jack took up residence on her sofa. Or maybe she had intended to and had simply not made it across the room to close and lock it before falling into bed for the night. It had been a long day, emotionally draining and exhausting. The worst case she could recall in recent memory, and the evening out was something she had needed. A boy who wanted to be a girl, to be what _she _really was, unaccepted even by her own family, save the father. How could they have even suspected the father. But there was Jack, all smiles and picnic basket, and maybe - finally, being the man she always hoped he would be. _

_Her heart betrayed her again, and how lonely was she that she allowed it. So that when his hand slid down her arm, her eyes closed and the soft exhalation crossed her lips. He stood behind her, solid and warm, and how long had it really been since she let him get this close. She wanted to believe. She wanted the wild beating of her heart to be right. Her heart couldn't beat harder, louder than the sound of her memories. Her chest ached with pain, it mingled with the anticipation that curled inside her when his other hand settled against her hip and drew her back. _

_His chin was laying against her shoulder, even while his large hand splayed across her stomach. There was pressure behind her tightly closed eyes. It burned in sharp contrast to the heat that swept through her when his lips brushed the curve of her neck. Sharon drew a thin, shaky breath. The soft cotton of her simple night shirt seemed to brush enticingly across her skin, too sensitive after too long devoid of such caress. She gripped the edge of her dresser tightly, the emotion was too thick, too disjointed and suffocating. Desire, hope, and the memory of disappointment. The shell, the hard, porcelain surface behind which she had hidden for so long was cracked. She was left shaken when he turned her, pressed her against the dresser and drew his hands up the sides of her ribcage to pull her more firmly against him. _

_Her head turned, and his lips brushed her cheek instead. It burned her. Forced the air out of her lungs, but she shook herself away from the pull and promise of so much. Sharon forced her eyes open and found the room in a dizzying, gloss of moisture. The first tear slipped down her cheek when she lifted her face to look up at him and almost lost herself in the need she saw in his gaze. _

_"Don't." Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. Too thick and too rasping. Maybe a touch too desperate for the strong woman that was rattling against the chains of need she felt sweeping through her in answer to his strong gaze. "Don't touch me if you're just going to leave me again." He would crush her this time. _

_She saw the bewilderment that looked back at her, and the level of pain she heard in her tone surprised even her. Sharon stared back at him and when his thumb swept her cheek, smoothing away a second tear, her eyes closed. This time she felt his lips against the top of her head. Then he was gone, moving away from her, and what that meant she hadn't known._

Sharon still didn't know why Jackson had chosen to leave her that night. He could have pressed her, easily, and she'd have willingly given in. It wouldn't have been the first time. She would have regretted it later, she always did, lamenting in her loneliness the fact that her husband didn't want her enough to stay. She would have gone to work and cursed herself, for staying married to a man who was intent on using her, when another would have loved her, had she but only allowed it.

Here she was, listening with only half an ear as Gavin worked out the details of the preliminary hearing with the judge, the court clerk, Jack, and the stenographer that was recording all of it. He was putting forth a motion for mediation, so that they could try to reach an agreement upon the dissolution of their marriage. Docket number 14-93821, that was what thirty years of marriage boiled down to. It was a rather sad and pathetic end, but the marriage itself was rather sad and pathetic too.

Sharon sighed quietly when Jack protested the second motion Gavin put in front of the judge, to excuse her from future proceedings due to the nature of her profession. He wasn't present for the duration of her marriage, she didn't see a reason why she needed to be present for the end of it. Sharon trusted Gavin to keep her best interests in mind. They would go to mediation, give Jack an out, and if he didn't take it… she was turning Gavin loose on him. She would let the lawyer destroy him.

Just as Jack had attempted to destroy her.

The mediation motion passed, as did her separation from future proceedings as needed by her demanding position. Two victories she would accept. It was at least an acceptable starting point.

They adjourned for half an hour before reconvening in a small conference room on the fourth floor of the court annex. Sharon used the time to check in with her team and get status on their current case. Then she checked in with the kids. Elizabeth and Rusty were keeping each other occupied, it was a tentative bonding experience at best, as neither was very sure about the other. The only thing that they had agreed upon from the start was Sharon, and not disappointing her. That gave them a common ground from which to build upon. Elizabeth was attempting to convince Rusty that ballet was one large, moving chess game. He wasn't buying it, but she had inherited her mother's stubborn streak, and so wasn't giving up on proving her point. To that end, she was dragging Rusty to every performance, class, or studio she could find in Los Angeles that was worth attending.

It might be a futile effort on her part, but it was keeping Elizabeth occupied, and away from the divorce proceedings. She was convinced that she needed to remain in LA, if not until it was over, at the very least, until she absolutely had to return to New York.

Sharon was only thankful that Ricky was too involved in work, currently, to swoop in and begin trying to fix everything. That was the trait that he had inherited from her, along with the requisite stubbornness. Richard was a fixer. He wanted to help or save everyone, and unfortunately, it wasn't always possible. It certainly wasn't in this case. Sharon decided that the best course of action for all involved was to keep her children as far away from the unpleasantness as possible. All of them.

It was a narrow conference room that they found themselves in, small, by Los Angeles standards, but it was only the three of them and a clerk acting as a third party. The table sat ten, with four chairs on each side, and one on each end. The clerk took a seat at the end closest to the door, while Sharon and Gavin chose to sit with their backs to the windows that lined the outside wall.

Sharon folded herself, gracefully, into a chair and settled comfortably with her legs crossed beneath the table. She glanced at Gavin to her left and gave only a slight flicker of a single brow before turning her attention to Jackson, the sole occupant opposite them. She wouldn't look at him in the court room, but now she had no choice. She schooled her features into the cool mask she had created and perfected during her long years in Internal Affairs. After setting her phone on the table beside a legal pad and pen, she clasped her hands together and rested them in her lap.

Gavin glanced between them and suppressed the urge to shiver, or to laugh. His old friend had pulled out the Ice Bitch for which she had become famous, and feared, and was wielding it in full force. It wasn't pleasant being on the receiving end, he knew, he had been there a time or two. Particularly after that nasty Federal Lawsuit business. Sharon was not pleased with him after that, not in the least, and it had taken some groveling, shopping, and seriously good wine to get back into those good graces. He would say that he pitied Jackson, except that being a lawyer or not, he really tried to never lie outright.

"Alrighty then!" Gavin clapped his hands together and gave them a good rub. "Let's get to it, shall we." He flipped the page on his legal pad and clicked his pen on. "Now, I believe you have received the terms under which we are willing to file?"

"Is that what you're calling it?" Jack tapped the end of his pen against the leather bound notebook in front of him. His gaze shifted to his wife and he inclined his head at her. He knew that look, it could be impenetrable. The Ice Queen, cold and unyielding, that was his wife, with her high standards, high expectations, and rules. Always with her perfect rules. "Irreconcilable differences? No contest divorce, and we each agree to wave financial claim on the assets of the other party. You must be joking."

Sharon's lips pursed. "I rather thought your initial salvo was the joke, Jackson. Infidelity? Emotional hardship? Going so far as to question Elizabeth's paternity." She hummed quietly. "You mean that wasn't an attempt to simply get my attention? Then do tell me, Jackson, what is it, exactly, that you believe that I have done to wrong _you_, hm?" A single, well sculpted brow rose, indicating that she was waiting.

"Don't turn this around on me," he pointed his pen at her. "You are the one who made it impossible to live with you. You know, Sharon, if it weren't for your impossibly high standards, you might not spend so much time alone. As for Elizabeth, we both know she isn't mine. From the day she was born, she has been nothing like me. She looks _nothing_ like anyone in my family."

"Impossibly high standards." Sharon looked at Gavin. Her head inclined again and she looked skyward, seeming almost amused. "Such as paying rent. Or coming home before two in the morning. Not spending his entire paycheck on booze, cards, or strippers. Yes, I can see where I was a bit hard on him."

"Hmm." Gavin nodded. He was making notes as they spoke. "I should point out, we have those receipts. I saved everything from the original filing." He looked, over the rims of his glasses, at Jack. "We have the entire file, all of the data gathered for the separation proceedings, we're prepared to utilize it here. That would include the receipts from several evenings spent at a bar called Malone's, as well as evenings at a Gentlemen's club. We have the gambling, you were on record as entering and losing in several poker tournaments. There is also your arrest in 1986, DWI, if I remember correctly, and a couple of drunk and disorder charges from the 90s. That last wouldn't be in our file, but we were able to get the documents, since they are public record. Now, my client, on the other hand… has an impeccable record. So you can see how we might be on somewhat uneven ground here."

"I went to rehab," Jack pointed out. "That's public record too."

"That I paid for," Sharon reminded him. "Once, and then your brother paid for the second trip to rehab, since we didn't have the money for that. Considering that I drew out a 401K to pay for the expenses, and was able to cite the medical necessity to forgo the early withdrawal penalty, we have that on record also." Her lips curved into a small, unpleasant smile. "As for the children… you're right." She shrugged. "They aren't yours." Before Jackson could even react, she continued. "You might have been present for the conception, but they are all mine. They've always been mine, Jack. That happens when you aren't involved in their upbringing. Had you been, you would know that Elizabeth has your mother's ears, she has your chin - unfortunately - and the nose." She looked at Gavin and clucked her tongue. "She has that Raydor nose, it really is a little unfortunate."

"Well I offered to pay for a nose job when she turned eighteen, but you wouldn't allow it," Gavin pointed out.

"She wanted it for all the wrong reasons," Sharon commented casually.

"Is this a mediation or a social session," Jackson interrupted angrily. He shifted in his seat. "Look, Sharon, I think it's only fair if we split everything down the middle. I will let the paternity test go, but don't pretend you haven't cheated. Twenty years is a long time, even you're not that cold."

"No, Jack, I was married." Her gaze hardened. "Granted, I was married to a man who had no grasp of the simple concept, but the fact still remained. No, let's talk about cheating." She nodded her head toward Gavin. "We won't use information that my lawyer gained from a source that he is refusing to acknowledge," she shot a look at her friend. "We don't need it. I have a few names of my own. Let's try, Tonya Lawson, do you remember her? She was in your International Law lecture, and you were having an affair with her while I was pregnant with Richard. Funny, you weren't even drinking all that heavily then, and we weren't separated, but, I digress." Sharon ticked off names on her fingers. "Michelle Garman, sweet girl. I actually liked her, but Jackson, really… she was barely twenty, and you were past thirty. It was a bit sleazy honey, even for you. Of course, it was pretty typical, I didn't know about any of it at the time it was happening, but it does all come out in the wash, doesn't it?" She took no pleasure in watching him pale as she brought up the affairs. But she could find some amusement in his belief that she was still in the dark about it. He could be so utterly shortsighted at times.

"Don't forget Penny," Gavin stated. He tapped his pen against his chin. "That was the one he left you for. The little redheaded dancer from Vegas. Although, I suppose, technically he was leaving you to chase poker tournaments, but he did move in with Penny."

"Hmm. Yes." Sharon's lips pursed. "How could I forget Penny… Penny who called me for money the night you went to jail in Vegas for punching a blackjack dealer. No, Jack, I haven't forgotten Penny. So…" She sat up in her seat a bit and rested her clasped hands against the surface of the table. "This is what we're going to do. We are going to get a divorce, no contest, irreconcilable differences. You are going to waive any and all claim to _my_ assets, and then you're going to waive spousal support, and then if you're lucky, some day when you're very old, and very lonely, and you need someone to pretend they're your family, _my_ children might choose to remember your name. Or they won't, but I'm done facilitating that relationship. The choice is yours."

He was grinding his teeth together. Jack's grip on his pen had tightened. He glowered at her, the muscle in his cheek ticking from the force of the pressure on his jaw. The hot ball of anger was working its way through him. He was too far vested now to let Sharon believe that she had won, and he wasn't giving up on what should be his, at least by half. He needed that money. "You didn't come here without a contingency plan," he pointed out. "You know that I'll push, Sharon. I'll ask for the paternity test, and the infidelity claim will go on file. I have a name of my own, and once that goes on record, it's all over for you." He pointed his pen at her and shook it. "You're not going to risk that."

He was reckless. When he was angry, he was blind and reckless. It was the reason for the contingency plan, as he called it. Or rather, the settlement that she was prepared to offer him. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that if I were you." Sharon glanced at Gavin and nodded.

"You're going to take our offer." He leaned forward. "Because you're not going to be willing to accept the alternative." He pulled a new set of papers out of his briefcase. "Which is rather generous, if I do say so myself. We're prepared to move forward with irreconcilable differences and a settlement of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, lump sum payment. Which will be all of the settlement you will receive from my client. I just don't think you really want it."

"You've lost your mind." Jack looked at her. "You don't have that. You have your pension, maybe 75 grand on the condo if you sold it, and anything that you've invested, but you don't have that kind of money, Sharon. Not in liquid asset. You're comfortable, but that's… That's a bogus offer, and you know it."

"Hmm." She hummed. "Is it?"

_The summer had been mild so far. There was a cool breeze flowing in off the pacific. Behind her the Santa Monica boardwalk was lit up. The sounds of music and laughter flowed along the breeze, but she hardly found them as cheerful as they normally were. She strode along the pier, hand trailing along the rail. The sun had gone down an hour before, taking the heat of the day with it. The night was comfortable, however, with a clear sky. She stopped and rested her arms against the rail and watched waves roll in toward the shoreline, to break against the pylons beneath the pier. _

_"Nice night." The voice was thick, rough and rumbling along the breeze. He stopped beside her and squinted out at the twilight dusk that filled the space between sunset and moonrise. The light was reflected in his blue eyes. He lifted a brow when he looked at her. There were new lines around her eyes, but she hadn't changed that much since their last encountered. "You look good." _

_"Hm." She chuckled quietly. "Liar." Her mouth quirked upward and she turned sideways to gaze at him. "You look the same." It never failed to surprise or amuse her that he never changed. His hair was the same salt and pepper, and the piercing gaze was the same. "Thank you for coming." It had been a long time since she asked for help in her personal life. She became very good at standing on her own very early, thanks to all of Jack's many issues and downfalls. Once he was gone, there had only been herself to lean on. There had been a time or two, however, when that hadn't been enough. She had been too proud to ask for the help, but others hadn't allowed it to be her ruin. Jackson's brother was no different. He was the man that his brother wasn't. They had both gone to law school, and his brother was successful where Jackson was not. Strong, where Jackson was weak. Cunning, where Jackson tried to be. Sharon drew a breath and turned her face back toward the breeze. It lifted her hair away from her face in sweeping, gentle caresses. _

_"Family doesn't stop being family," he replied with a slight quirk of his lips. "Even when my brother is a fool. When family calls, you show up. Simple as that." His eyes crinkled with amusement. "How are the kids?" _

_"They're good," her smile softened immediately. "Ricky is working too hard, but he loves it. Beth is… well, she would dance morning, noon, and night if she were allowed. She's here in town, I'll tell her to call you. I know she would love to see you, if you've time." _

_"There's time." He draped his arms over the rail and loosely tangled his fingers together. "What happened, Sharon. You don't call without good reason. You said you needed my help." _

_"Hm." She hummed lightly. "Grant…" She leaned with her back against the rail and shook her head. "You once said that when I was ready to be rid of him, I only had to say the word." Sharon exhaled lightly. The knot in her stomach twisted. "I'm ready." She pulled the copy of the papers that Gavin had provided her with from her purse and handed them to him. "Jack sent this to me." _

_His eyes narrowed. Grant took it, and turned the papers so that he could read them in the dim lights nearby. Without his glasses he had to hold them out, but he swore, quietly and viciously beneath his breath when he read the vitriol his brother had written. "Unbelievable." Grant folded the papers, pressing them into half, and then fourths with sharp, quick movements before handing them back to her. _

_"It's not true—" Sharon stopped speaking at the hard, angry look that he flashed at her. Yes, of course he knew that it wasn't true. It was an insult to both of them to voice it. "I'm sorry." _

_"No, I am." He shook his head. "I should have forced you to do this a long time ago. You would have been better off." He rubbed the strong, wide curve of his jaw. "You'll want to offer him a settlement. When he knows where it's coming from, he may back off completely and accept the nothing that I know you're going to offer first. If he doesn't, it will serve the same purpose. He'll be out of your life." _

_Sharon tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You know that I hate asking you for money," she said harshly. "It just looks as though Jackson is destined to get at your funds through me." _

_"Not for long." He flashed a grin at her. "You're not asking, Sharon. I offered a long time ago. It's only money, I've got plenty of that. What am I going to do? Give it to my kids?" He made a face at her and shook his head. "They'll get their share of it. I can't take any of it with me. I might as well put it to good use." Grant turned away from the pier and took her arm, he drew it through his and walked toward the boardwalk. "Tell your lawyer to come up with a number, you'll have your money. If Jack doesn't take it, then keep it. Consider it long overdue spousal support." _

_"I am _not_ keeping your money." She made a face at him. "No, send it when he agrees to take it. I don't want it, and I don't need it. Not for myself, in any case." Sharon leaned into his side as they walked. "Thank you… and for what it's worth, I think you're right. I should have done this a long time ago." _

_"Stubborn." Grant smirked at her. "Bit of a scrapper, too. You don't give up. You don't know how to surrender. But you're not surrendering this time. It's just another line in the sand. This time, he drew it. You'll be okay, kid. Don't let him see you sweat." _

_"Is that your professional advice?" She grinned at him. _

_"Nope." He slanted a look at her. "My professional advice is… kick his ass." _

_Her laughter floated long the breeze around them. _

"No, it's real, Jack. We're prepared to offer it, and you'll get the check when the divorce is final in sixty days. As to the money, well… Your brother was all too happy to give it to me if it would get you out of my life for good."

His fingers felt slightly cold, numb around his pen. "My…" Jack adjusted his tie. "My brother? You went to my brother, for money. You called Grant about all of this." He shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. He hadn't spoken to his brother in more than five years, and the man wouldn't take his calls. He'd long ago stopped helping him out of the tight spots he sometimes found himself in.

"I did." Her face hardened, and her tone became pure steel. "He was especially interested in the part where I was the cheating spouse, and his favorite niece was not his niece." Her head tilted. "So what is it going to be, Jack." She reached out and lifted her phone. "Am I calling Grant and asking him to wire the money into the account that Gavin and I set up for just that purpose, or can we just call it even and… go our separate ways."

Jack adjusted his tie again, then swept a hand across his brow. "Of course, I'm going to want to think about it. Weigh my options." It was a lot of money, but it came with strings. Very painful, very definite, strings. He could push Sharon further, but if she had enlisted his brother's help, then the harder he pushed, the more fallout there would be afterward.

"Of course." Sharon looked at Gavin. "You'll check your calendar and let him know when you can meet to discuss?"

"Naturally." He picked up his blackberry and began scrolling. "How about, two days from now. I have a three o'clock appointment on Thursday. That should be sufficient, yes?"

"Fine." Jack slammed his notebook closed and pushed it into his briefcase. "I'll let you know." After zipping it closed, he stood and looked at Sharon. He opened his mouth to speak, but when her brows simply raised, his eyes narrowed. "It didn't have to be this way."

"No," she said, just a bit sadly. "It didn't have to be this way at all, but you made your choices, Jackson. They weren't made for you, and there were plenty of opportunities when you could have chosen differently." She had given him chance, after chance, after chance. This past summer was no different.

He slammed the conference room door behind him. "Well then." Gavin dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. "That went better than expected." He looked at her. "It really is a pity you never went to law school. We could have ruled the world."

Sharon snorted at him. "I prefer to use my powers for good."

Gavin rolled his eyes at her. "Is that what you're calling it?" He glanced at his watch and began packing away his things. "Come on, sweetie, let's go down to Marcel's. I'll buy the wine and you can cry on my shoulder."

"You can buy the wine." She unfolded from her seat and stood. Sharon found that she felt mostly numb. She was sure the darker emotions would come later, when she was alone, as they usually did. She would be surrounded by the regret, and the sorrow, and of course the worry. The worry that Jackson would prove more stubborn than they expected. "I am tired of crying over that man."

"Well it's about time!" He clucked his tongue at her. "I mean, really. How long have I known you? We need to find you a new one, and ASAP." Gavin tapped his fingers against his mouth as they left the conference room. "I'm thinking, something in a tall, dark, younger man. If not for you, then at least for me."

"Oh my god, you are horrible," She looped her arm through his as they walked. "I cannot believe that I know you."

"I know." He smiled. "I'm so much prettier."

She laughed. It was, maybe, the first real laugh in days, and certainly the first since her meeting with Jack's brother. Sharon leaned into his side. She had little cause for laughter since receiving the original divorce papers almost two full weeks before. "Let's be honest with each other, honey. In no universe are you, in any way, prettier than me." She leaned in closer to whisper, "I've seen those legs."

Gavin gasped. It was loud and exaggerated. "You did not. Okay, just for that, precious, we are definitely finding tall, dark, and good-looking for me and you can just go trolling on your own time."

"Taking into consideration the fact that the only men you know well enough to set me up with are either gay or married, that might not be a bad idea." She smirked at him.

"That's not true," his nose wrinkled. "I know a great group of single thirty-somethings. One of them would be just perfect for you," he teased.

"You understand that we're about to go back through the checkpoint, and I'm going to get my gun back, right?" Sharon gave him a hard look.

"Suit yourself." He sighed. "You are so hard to shop for." They came to a stop in front of the elevator. "Of course, one solution would be for you to stop pretending you're not already dating the crazy and passionately hotheaded Lieutenant Flynn."

The look Sharon shot at him might have frightened anyone else. She sniffed, delicately, and lifted her chin. "We are _not_ dating. We're friends, Gavin. That's it."

"Hmm." The elevator opened and he grinned. "Yes, but friends don't let friends go to second base, dearest." They stepped inside and he gave her a knowing smirk.

Sharon sighed. "First I'm going to shoot you, then I'm going to shoot him, and then I think I might shoot you again," she said, a little wistfully. "Yes, that sounds good."

His head inclined. "I feel that I should point out the obvious. If you were doing more than going to second base, you wouldn't be feeling so nasty."

"Yes, definitely you first," she decided. "Gavin, we're not discussing it. _Friends_," she stressed, "that's it."

"You keep telling yourself that dearest." He shook his head at her. "But the one thing you have never been is _friends_ with Andy Flynn." When the elevator doors opened on the second floor, Gavin strode out of it to move on to his next appointment, leaving her alone.

She stood in the empty elevator and heaved a loud, weary sigh. "Well, damn it." Truer words had never been spoken.


	6. Chapter 6

The Good Wife - Chapter 6

by: Kadi

Rated: M

* * *

It occurred to him, more than once, that he might not have thought things through to the most logical conclusion. At the end of the day, Jackson Raydor was aware that was one of his more serious flaws. He was blinded by the moment, by a swell of emotion that he had ridden toward this slightly disastrous crossroads. The wave had come in a mix of anger, jealousy, and the sudden desire to try and best his wife. Perhaps, he realized now, he had not thought things through as well as he could have.

What began with a phone call, one of his few remaining Los Angeles contacts and sometimes client, casually dropping news of his wife had spiraled quickly out of control. Tom Andrews had not realized, when he expressed his polite dismay that long time associates Jack and Sharon had finally signed final papers rather than finding a way to reconcile, that he was setting Jack on a course of further self destruction.

Jack was aware that Sharon had _friends_ with whom she moved in certain circles, that acted as escort for formal or official engagements. Usually it was that lawyer, Baker, but there were a few select others, and never once had Jack had cause or reason for jealousy. With his last visit to Los Angeles, however, Jack had come to see that things were changing. Sharon had denied him. She stood firm, and without the usual resignation she would display just before she caved and Jack managed to get whatever it was that he wanted, or needed, from her. He was also surprised to find that she had left Internal Affairs. She was back with homicide, and this time, it was the most elite squad within the LAPD. More than that, she was leading it.

His Sharon had moved up, yet again, and when Jack thought he might reap those rewards, he found himself completely shut down and shut out. He played cool, as much as he could, and found himself equally as stunned to find that his wife was riding with that Flynn again. Yes, Jackson remembered him. He recalled him as a heavy drinker with a hot temper, at least until Sharon started busting his balls, and from where he stood it had seemed amusing that they had gone from partners to adversaries, at least until Jackson began to see the writing on the wall.

To this day his wife didn't know that he knew just how close she had come to being just as imperfect as he was. She didn't realize the things a drunken man would admit to, and not remember later. Jackson remembered well, and understood that Sharon's new strength of resistance to him had more underlying it than some kid she had taken in. Jackson remembered enough that when Tom Andrews called him, and mentioned seeing his wife at the ballet with a Lieutenant Flynn, and how good she had looked, he had started to plan.

It might have been arrogance on his part, as much as it was anger and jealousy, to think that he could strike at Sharon so completely and not come away without a few battle wounds of his own. He should have realized she would run to Baker, or else he might have planned for that. What he didn't plan for was that she would run to Grant. His own brother, always siding against him, always choosing his wife. His punishment, he supposed, for having stolen her from Grant to begin with. Yes, Jackson wasn't foolish enough to think that his brother would have forgotten that, even after all these years. Grant had moved on, married, had children of his own… but you never quite got over a woman like that. Jackson certainly hadn't. Of course, he had to admit, it had been in the back of his mind all those years, whether or not she had ever actually loved him… or if she had just chosen the path of least resistance.

Grant had been ambitious, he was a hard man in a lot of ways. He paved his way, took no prisoners, and had few regrets about it. It was why he had become so successful, and why his clients chose him. They were among the best and brightest of corporate and political America. When he thought about that, Jackson had to admit, it wasn't really Sharon he had wanted, but the opportunity to be better than Grant at _something_. It didn't change a lot, she was still his, he had won her, and he would decide when and how they were done.

That was, at least, what he'd had in mind when he set this disaster in motion.

He didn't stop to think, or else Jackson might have realized the folly before it even started. Now he was left with only two choices. He could take the nothing that Sharon was offering him and slink away with his tail between his legs, or he could accept the settlement which came with the strings of having to face his brother. Oh yes, he wasn't foolish enough to think that if he accepted that settlement that Grant would not descend upon him with all the fury of the heavens. That was likely to happen anyway, now that his brother was aware of what he'd done.

Further unprepared was Jackson for what greeted him upon his arrival at Baker's office. He had not expected Sharon, and she did not disappoint him, but another stood, silently waiting when he entered the attorney's lair. Tall, broad across the shoulders, and draped in an expensive suit was his son. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he half turned, regarding him with a single, arched brow. It was the emotion behind his eyes that unsettled Jackson the most. Fury. Disappointment. Odd, that at once, Jackson was reminded of both his brother and his wife. Had he not known better, he would have thought it was Richard that was not his child. Oh, he knew that Elizabeth was his, but the best way to strike at Sharon had always been through the children. Truth be told, neither of them really cared for him anyway, and the girl least of all. He felt a little guilty for that, but buried it. His self righteousness wouldn't allow his conscience free.

Jackson felt out of place, as it was, in his old suit when faced with Baker. Seeing his son, clothed in designer labels, earned from his place at his Uncle's law firm, set him to feeling more ill at ease. He would have liked to claim that Richard had followed him into law, but the truth was, it was Grant and Sharon's brother David that he had followed, and David for whom he worked. The boy tilted his head, in that way that was completely reminiscent of his mother, and watched him approach.

"I take it that your mother has decided to send you in her place?" He chose to greet him with attitude, immediately going on the defensive.

The height had come from his mother's side of the family. It gave Ricky the opportunity to look down his nose at his father. "She doesn't know that I'm here." That he should be surprised that the man who had been a constant source of disappointment for all of them would never change could only be attributed to just how hard Ricky knew that his mother had tried all of those years to breach the gap between her children and the man who had sired them. "To answer your question," Ricky took his hands out of his pockets and straightened his cuffs. "She doesn't need to be here for this, I think you've done enough lately to show just how little you ever cared for her. For any of us, come to think of it." His gaze shifted back to Gavin and he nodded. "Let's get to it, shall we?"

The lawyer only barely managed to suppress a smirk. The boy had the aristocratic carriage of the Cavanaghs, thanks to his mother's genetics. He was a corporate lawyer, one used to running a board room and project meeting. Gavin saw very little of Jack in him, and not for the first time, was grateful for that. It wasn't just looks. There were traits, of course, physical characteristics that identified his parentage. It was attitude, personality, and the way in which he conducted himself that reminded him of the boy's mother.

Gavin took too folders and placed them on his desk. "You'll find that everything is in order," he began. "I've taken the opportunity of preparing both sets of papers. My client has already signed, all that remains is your signature, and they'll be filed." Gavin opened both, and indicated the sets of final divorce papers. "On the right, we have our original offer. Just to recap," His gaze went to Ricky, who was less familiar with the business they were conducting. "This agreement files the dissolution as irreconcilable differences. Each party agrees to waive asset rights and spousal support. They leave the marriage with the same financial status retained at the time of filing. The packet on the left," he laid his hand on them and cast, just a momentary, distasteful look at Jackson, "this is the settlement that my client is prepared to offer. The dissolution maintains the descriptive as irreconcilable, but each party waives right to spousal support, and Mr. Raydor will leave the marriage with a single settlement payment of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars." Gavin straightened and clasped his hands in front of him. He had laid a pen between the two folders. "The choice is yours. My client only wants the matter to be resolved."

Ricky hissed quietly through his teeth. He knew that his mother didn't have that in liquid asset. If she cashed out a few investments, she might have half of that, after paying the penalties on the investments. He couldn't imagine that she had gone to his Uncle David, that would have been a matter of not only pride, but not wanting the rest of the family to know the details of what was happening. No, Ricky knew where she had gone for that sum of money. It was more than paying his father to leave her alone. It was a lesson in retribution, a lesson which would have been undermined had she sought assistance from her side of the family. She was making a statement. Ricky had to admire the tenacity of it, even if he knew what it had cost her.

"What if I decide to postpone the signing until we're both here." Jack tilted his head at Gavin. He wasn't going to be completely cowed by the younger man. "Sharon has waited this long, I think she could wait a little longer."

"That would be a mistake." Ricky regarded the man cooly. "If you delay, the offer leaves the table, we take this to court and you lose." His eyes hardened, and the gray-green irises turned steel. "Mother may take a hit to her reputation, then again she might not. It would be embarrassing, but the end result would be the same. You would lose. The downside here is that while Riley, Melkinson, and Baker would retain primary place as counsel, they would be joined by Cavanagh and Associates. Our investigative department, is as you might remember, unparalleled at finding things many people would like to remain hidden." His head inclined. "Not that I would ever advise against doing as you deem in the best interests of your own counsel. By all means, proceed."

The shock at having his own son threaten him was displayed for both of them to see. Jack was suddenly reminded just how little he knew the young man standing in front of him. This was not the reservedly polite son he spoke to the previous summer. This was a hard opponent, one that would destroy him without blinking, or a moment's worth of regret. "I don't think your mother would appreciate that," he managed to say.

"I make my own decisions," Ricky stated easily. "My mother taught me to stand by those choices, and to stand up for what I felt was right, even when it wasn't easy. She taught me to be strong. She also taught me that the key to stopping a bully was by outsmarting him, rather than fighting." The sudden upturn to his lips was far from pleasant. "I think she would more than agree with this course of action. Sign the papers, walk away… or I'm taking you to court. As Mr. Baker said, the choice is yours."

His brows lifted. Gavin allowed a small smile. So he was Mr. Baker now. Well, that just made him feel so many shades of old. He tapped his fingers against the desk. "I think the opportunity for arguing your case has passed," he stated. "You were given the opportunity to amend the agreement. We received no response to indicate that further agreement would be forthcoming. What we have is option A or option B, unless you'd like to proceed to trial."

He wouldn't win. Jackson knew that. In the end, faced with the court costs and the combined force of Baker and Cavanagh, it was very likely that he would end up paying for the court costs and a settlement, or knowing California divorce law, Sharon would be the recipient of spousal support. Despite his anger, perhaps it was better if he took a tactical retreat and left with what he still had in tact. If not his pride, then his finances - such as they were. Jack glared at his son. Whatever thoughts of reconciliation might have remained between himself and his children, those ideas were out the window now. Stepping forward, Jack picked up the pen and clicked it on. He studied the two offers.

He knew when he was cornered. In all his imaginings, fueled by righteous anger or not, he never expected that Sharon would get dirty when she fought back. In hindsight, however, he should have realized that had it only been her reputation that he attacked he could have expected a mild effort on her part. The moment he had chosen to bring either of the children into it, he had unleashed the beast, so to speak. They had called her many names, during her tenure with Internal Affairs, and she had been hated, feared, and respected. Satan, the Wicked Witch, and now he understood why. Jack ground his teeth together before he bent and flipped the pages of the divorce agreement to the section which had been flagged for his signature. He read through the pertinent parts, quickly, to make certain the agreement was as it had been portrayed. He found Sharon's signature in place and his jaw clenched even tighter at the sight of the slanting, neat scrawl. His grip tightened around the pen. He was tempted, for just a moment, to be further defiant. It wouldn't do him any good. He felt the gazes of the other two men on him. Coolness from Gavin, and the heated disdain from his son. Jack quickly scrawled his signature and dropped the pen on the desk.

The better part of valor, at that point, might have been to just leave. Arrogance and self destruction wouldn't allow that. Jack shot a look at the boy, young man, whose loyalty was fully stacked in his mother's corner. "You'll have to tell Sharon that I hope she and her Lieutenant will be very happy."

If it were possible, Ricky's gaze became colder. He smiled. "I'm sure that she will be." There was a pause, he glanced over the man and found him lacking. "Now."

The door slammed behind him. Gavin tapped a finger against his lips. "Impressive."

Ricky exhaled loudly. "Yeah." He shook his head, his body relaxed, slumping now. The knot in his stomach felt like a pile of stones. He reached over and lifted the folder containing the signed agreement. "He didn't take the money." He wasn't sure if that shocked him or not.

"No." Gavin shook his head. He dropped into the chair behind his desk and loosened his tie. "She didn't expect that he would."

"Uncle Grant?" Ricky passed the signed papers back to Gavin and pushed his hands into his pockets again. He nodded slowly at Gavin's affirmation. "Well, it's done now."

"Hm." Gavin tapped the folder on his desk. "Finally. So, you can do the honors. Let her know that she'll have the final copies in sixty days. It will take that long to push it through the court and have it filed. I'll walk them over myself this afternoon." He drummed the fingers of his other hand on the desk. "She's going to have your head."

"Probably." Ricky grinned. "I'll just tell her that you felt uncomfortable facing the con artist by yourself." He straightened his suit and turned toward the door. "Big, strapping fellow like yourself."

"You can try that," Gavin smirked. "See how far it gets you." He checked his watch and sighed. "I have another appointment at three-thirty or I'd walk over with you. I'll call her later."

"I'll let her know." Ricky hesitated in leaving, just for a moment. "This was what she wanted, yes?"

"More or less." Gavin shrugged. "She wouldn't do it herself. Too prideful for that, too unwilling to admit defeat. It is what it is, Rick. Don't try and analyze your parents relationship. It will give you a migraine, trust me. I've had enough of them over the years."

"I stopped trying to understand it a long time ago," he admitted. "I think the sad thing is, I can't even remember a time when they were actually happy together. I have more memories of them as a couple than Beth, but I just don't remember them as actually being happy." Ricky shook his head. "That should tell me all that I need to know."

"Life happens," Gavin told him. "Your mother is the first to admit that. What we plan for may not actually be what we get. We make the best of it."

"Yes." He smiled. "That sounds like her." Ricky strode toward the door. "Or we make very good friends with the lawyers that can help us make the best of it."

"Absolutely." Gavin grinned and swiveled in his chair to put the divorce papers in his briefcase for the trip to the court clerk's office later that afternoon.

The mood in the murder room was tense. It had been for most of the day. Rusty had let slip to Provenza that the papers were being signed that afternoon, and he had in turn passed the word on to Flynn. They had given Sanchez the heads up as well. The three men had spent the day running interference, or generally being ridiculous and finding new and improved ways of annoying their Captain in an attempt to keep the day moving and her mind from lingering.

Buzz still hadn't figured out how to get the flying monkeys down from where they had been suspended from the ceiling tiles without being seen by the Lieutenants. He hadn't figured out where they'd gotten them yet either. There were five of them, eight inch, stuffed, plush flying monkeys, complete with webbed bat wings. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know. What he did know was that every time he touched one of them, a loud cackling would echo through the room. There was no way they could have figured that one out on their own. Buzz kept casting knowing, suspicious looks at Tao.

At the moment, the Lieutenants and the Captain were focused on their suspect, who was waiting for them in the interview room. They didn't have enough evidence, yet, to offer a deal. They needed to question him, but the moment they did that, he would lawyer up. For now he was giving a witness statement, but they had enough probable cause to believe that he was their guy. The murder had taken place just a few days before, the victim was a member of the same study group. They were both students at UCLA, both of them were second year law students, and their suspect's father was a partner in a prominent Los Angeles law firm. He knew his rights.

"We've got two hours before we have to cut him loose," Sharon reminded them. She was seated on the edge of Provenza's desk, arms folded over her chest while they tried to find a way through the legal red tape in front of them. "If we question him, he'll call his father. If we don't question him…"

"He doesn't get to trip over his own lies and give us the last piece we need to put him away," Andy pointed out. "But if we cut him loose, he'll fly. He has means, opportunity. The minute he's out of here, he's in the wind, and we're screwed."

"Leaving is an admission," Provenza pointed out. He scowled, not for the first time, at the Captain seated on his desk. It was well known that he didn't like people placing things on _his_ desk. "I don't think his ego would allow it."

"I would tend to agree," Sharon simply smiled serenely back at him. He had placed flying monkeys in _her_ murder room. She was sitting on his desk. "On the other hand, we can't risk his skipping town. That leaves us walking a very fine line and running out of time."

"Is there nothing we can book him on?" Flynn ran a hand over his hair and sighed.

"I could let him trip me." Sanchez flashed a sly grin at them. "Assaulting a police officer, that would give us another seventy-two hours until we realize it was all just an unfortunate accident."

"And his lawyer slaps you with a civil rights violation," a new voice stated. Ricky strode into the murder room and took a moment to glance around. He had heard only the last part. "Whoever he is. Not to mention the risk you run of a neglect or physical assault charge, further litigation, and so forth and so on if anything happens to him while he is being… accidentally detained. It's all so much murky water, really." He stopped beside the desk upon which his mother was seated and inclined his head while he studied the notes on the white board, along with the unpleasant photographs of the body. "You could choose an act of good faith. Simply admit that he's a suspect, lay it out for him. Then explain that the evidence is pointing you in his direction. Tell him you don't believe it, you think there must be more to it than that, but if he chooses to call a lawyer, he's stopping the only chance he has of helping you to to help him. If you lay it out correctly, then you've bypassed the risk of trampling on his rights, which he surely knows," Ricky tapped the section of the board that identified the man as a UCLA law student. "As much as he wants daddy to bail him out, he's going to want to avoid daddy finding out where he is and why, especially if he's guilty. If he can put an end to this one on his own, mores the better. You get to question him, and it buys you time. As long as he is here on his own, it doesn't matter how long it takes you to charge him." He slanted a look at his mother and winked.

Her eyes narrowed. Sharon's lips pursed. She clasped her hands in front of her and considered it. "That's not a bad idea, there is still an element of risk. He might see right through us." She arched a brow at him. It seemed her children were intent upon surprising her with their presence of late. She expected that he had been by to see Gavin first, the evidence was there in the slightly brittle edges that surrounded her son, who was trying so hard to appear nonchalant.

"There's always a risk," he replied. Ricky looked around and fixed her with a slightly amused expression. "Like the risk you take when you hire an untried decorator. You never know what's going to happen. One day, it's office sheik, the next, Oz."

"Can I just ask the obvious question." Provenza leaned back in his chair to scowl at the young man. "Who are you, exactly? What are you doing here? And will you get _off_!" He huffed in exasperation at his Captain and picked up a file. He looked distinctly as if he were trying to decide if it was worth it to swat her with it or not.

"I don't think he likes our decorating," Flynn decided. "My feelings could be hurt. Sanchez?"

"Mine are hurt." He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. "We worked hard."

"I wouldn't quit your day jobs." Ricky walked over and sat next to his mother. "What do you think?"

"They might need to fall back on interior design if they aren't careful," Sharon deadpanned. "Everyone, this is my son, Richard. Ricky, this is…everyone."

"That would be unfortunate. Hello, everyone." He sketched a wave before returning to the discussion. He imitated her stance, clasping his hands in front of him. "You should try the direct questioning. I won't even charge you for the advice, but it will cost you."

"Is that right." Her eyes narrowed again. "Am I going to be willing to extend payment?"

"It would be in your best interests." He arched a brow at her. "If you don't extend full payment, I'll probably starve to death. Waste away to practically nothing. We can't have that."

"No…" The corners of her mouth were twitching. "I suppose we can't." She reached up and touched his face, for just a moment.

"Mom." Ricky glanced behind her. "Should we be worried about the old guy? He's turning a pretty dark shade of purple."

Sharon angled a look at Provenza and shrugged. "He'll be okay. He has a sort of… desk OCD. He doesn't like people touching it." She tilted her head and continued to sit right where she is. "I have a thing about stuffed toys hanging in my murder room. We're negotiating."

"You realize this is why they called you Satan, yes?" Ricky shook his head at her.

"Hm." She hummed, smiled happily. "Indeed." After another moment, she stood up. "I can't find any holes to poke through it. We'll give it a try. I'll feed you even if it doesn't work." Sharon turned and let her gaze wonder the room. "Lieutenant Provenza, Detective Sanchez," she pointed to the members of her squad and called them by name as means of doing a more proper introduction. When she was finished, she turned to Tao, "I'd like for you to take Detective Sanchez and approach our suspect. You'll play the nice end of the spectrum. Afterward, I'll send Brutus and Chistery in," she said, nodding to Flynn and Provenza respectively, "to give your offer credence."

Buzz snickered at the name, and when the others looked at him he rolled his eyes. "Chistery, the lead flying monkey in the musical _Wicked_."

Provenza snorted as he made a sweeping gesture at his desk once the Captain and her off spring were both off of it. "Well, she would know."

"Lieutenant, perhaps you should join Buzz in electronics so you will be prepared for your interview." Sharon smirked at him.

"I'm going." He stood up, but not before straightening his desk. "Stay _off_," he told her.

Sharon watched him leave, her expression a mix of amusement and submission. She waited until he had disappeared into the electronics room, Sykes behind him before she scooted over to the desk and began to systematically rearrange _everything_.

Flynn watched her. He pressed his lip together to keep from laughing. "I suppose the monkeys might have been a bit much?"

"Not exactly." Her eyes were sparkling when she stepped back to admire her handy work. She even moved the bobble head to the opposite side of the desk and turned it outward, facing her office. "When the monkeys come down, I start playing nice again." Sharon smoothed her skirt down and started toward her office. "Richard."

"Yes ma'am." He followed dutifully, but he was chuckling quietly.

"What about a truce," Flynn decided, stepping in her path. "The monkeys come down if part of this cooking your son is coercing you to do tonight involves a plate of brownies making their way onto my desk in the morning."

Her eyes narrowed. "That could be construed as blackmail, Lieutenant."

"I like to think of it as inducement to good behavior," Andy flashed a crooked grin at her.

"Hm." She hummed softly. "Yes, I can see where you might. I still consider my providing baked goods for the promise of your good behavior as a form of blackmail. I don't respond well to such threats, Lieutenant. You know that."

Andy tapped his fingers against his chin. "Yes. I seem to recall something about that. How about this… think of it as… ensuring a peaceful and productive work environment."

Her brow arched. "Peaceful and productive?"

"Yep." He leaned forward, dark eyes glittering with amusement. "The monkeys come down, stay down, you stop torturing my partner and we all live in peace. Therefore, we are all more productive."

"I see," Sharon said at length. "Or you could take the monkeys down just because I said so."

Flynn pretended to think about that. "Nah." He started toward the electronics room.

Sharon huffed in mild annoyance and started toward her office again. "I'll consider it."

Ricky followed his mother into her office and took a seat where and when he was indicated. He opened one of the buttons of his jacket and reached up to loosen his tie slightly. "At least some things never change. You're still good at making friends."

The look she gave him might have been intended to sear, except for the underlying amusement. "They're not usually so blatant. I appreciate their efforts. They've been trying to cheer me up."

"Is it working?" He studied her closer, there were rough edges, but she wasn't as brittle as he would have expected.

"Hm." Sharon shrugged. "I think it depends on the day, or the time of day, or…" She waved it aside. "Anyway. Here you are." She pushed her chair back and slid into it. "You certainly never mentioned that you were planning a visit."

"And ruin the surprise?" Ricky flashed a grin. "I can't let little sister have all the fun." He pulled his left foot up onto the opposite knee and got comfortable. "I had some business to take care of, so here I am."

"Business." Sharon didn't believe that for a second. Her look said as much. "Richard, you understand that you weren't present at the start of my marriage to your father, so it stands to reason that you shouldn't be present at the end of it."

"It ended a long time ago," he pointed out. "Status on a piece of paper doesn't change that. Mom, I get it. I really do, but you're the one always telling us to do what we think is best. I understand your need to shield us from all of this, but you can't. It just isn't possible. We're in this. We were in it from the moment we were conceived. That you tried to protect us is admirable, but there are just some things that you can't stop us from experiencing." Richard smiled at her. "It was my choice to look him in the eye, at least one more time, and see for myself that there was nothing there worth salvaging. You've been protecting me for my entire life, it was my turn to don the armor."

Her children had an uncanny ability to surprise her. She looked down when her vision blurred and cleared her throat. She exhaled quietly, forcing air out of her lungs and then drawing it slowly back in. When she felt that she could express herself without the threat of tears, she looked up at him again. "Thank you." Sharon knew that she should have expected that the independent, headstrong children she had raised would find their own way into and out of the mess that she and their father had created of their personal lives. "I take it, then, that you were with Gavin?"

"It's done." Ricky's smile softened, and it saddened. "It's over. He signed the no-contest, Gavin is going to file it today. It will all be officially final in sixty days, but you're as good as divorced." It was a long time in coming, but it didn't make the reality of it any lighter, or less painful. Ricky decided to keep to himself his father's final parting shot. There was no reason anyone should pour salt in that wound, least of all him.

Sharon's head inclined. She thought she'd feel something once it was all finally ended. There was some measure of relief, certainly, to have it all finally sliding behind them. Still, she didn't feel any differently than she had that morning, or any other morning for the last several years. "That's it then." Thirty years, wiped away with the swipe of a pen. She couldn't call it a waste, not when she considered the children, but aside from Richard and Elizabeth her marriage had given her little beyond years of regret. Sharon had already made the conscious decision to not dwell on it any longer. She wasn't a woman who pined, or indulged in prolonged periods of self pity and regret. Life happened and then it was time to move on. "How long do I have you for," she asked instead.

"I can give you a couple of days," Ricky explained. "Then I should really get back. Uncle David understands, but I'm afraid my clients won't. I rescheduled a couple of meetings, but I can't postpone them for longer than a day or two."

"You shouldn't have come," she admonished gently, but with little real force behind it. "I'll take you as long as I can get you, though." Sharon's gaze swept over her son and she was struck by just how grown up he appeared. They had both grown up so fast, and now there was Rusty, already eighteen, and practically grown when he had come to her. "So, I'm feeding you tonight." She smiled brightly. "Any special requests?"

"Oh, I have a few things in mind." His brows bobbed. "Don't worry, Beth and the Kid are working on the menu. They'll have everything picked up and ready by the time you make it home." Ricky considered it for a moment, then his look turned positively devious. "I think your boyfriend is still expecting a batch of Crack Brownies." He was old enough, at the time, to remember his mother's old partner.

"He is not…" Sharon began, then rolled her eyes at him. "Oh hush." She let it go with an exasperated sigh. When she got down to the crux of the matter, she had to admit that Gavin was right about them. They weren't friends, not in the normal sense of the word, but they weren't exactly _more_ than friends either. She and Andy seemed to exist in some odd limbo in between which was hard to identify or explain.

Ricky's eyes glittered with mischief. "Would you like me to hang around? See if the plan pans out for you?"

"I think you've done enough for one day." She smiled, more genuinely this time. "It was an incredibly good idea. I'll let you know how it turns out." Sharon's lips pursed. "Ricky, I may end up staying late tonight. I can't promise dinner."

"Then we'll do it tomorrow." He pushed out of his chair and righted his suit. He recalled, only too well, how demanding his mother's career could be. She always made the time for them, when it mattered, but her hours could change on short notice and that was before returning to homicide. "I'll just have to hang around in town until you extend payment in full."

"Hm." Her eyes brightened. "I hope that isn't supposed to be incentive to hurry?"

"Good thing my boss is well acquainted with your moods," he quipped back.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sharon stood when he did and walked him out of her office.

"Of course not." When they passed under one of them, Ricky reached up and sent one of the monkeys to twirling. It also began cackling, loudly. "Genius." He laughed. "I want one of these when they come down."

Sharon rolled her eyes at him. "I think they'll all find adequate and permanent homes, some place well away from me."

"You're plotting something." Ricky laughed as they left the murder room. She walked with him to the elevator bank.

"Who? Me?" She was a study in innocence. "Why would I have cause for plotting anything? I'm simply looking out for those less fortunate than myself."

"Right." Ricky just shook his head at her. "You understand I'm not buying that, right?"

"Hm." She hummed, and then she shrugged.

"You really are the wicked witch." Ricky curled an arm around around her shoulders and dropped a kiss onto her cheek. "Behave, mom. I don't want to have to come back down here and get you out of trouble."

Sharon laughed. "Oh sweetheart, the difference between me and the others is that I know better than to get caught." She slipped an arm around him and hugged him, tightly. "I'm glad that you're here."

"So am I." He dwarfed her, his larger than life mother, and was struck for the first time just how vulnerable she could seem. Ricky decided that he despised his father in that moment. More when he considered that it would only sadden her more to hear him say it. Instead, he wisely kept it to himself. After another moment or two, the elevator doors opened and Ricky let her go. "I'll see you later." He stepped in, but paused halfway. "Mom… be good."

"I'm always _good_." She turned on her heel and strode back toward the Murder Room. Her stride only faltered and slowed when she rounded the corner and was out of site of the elevators. She felt badly that her children thought they needed to drop everything and rush to her side. It was all such a mess, but thankfully almost over.


	7. Chapter 7

The Good Wife - Chapter 7

by: Kadi

Rated: M

* * *

It was another late night for the Major Crimes team, but one which had paid off in the end. Andy might have been astonished that a lawyer could have a good idea, but the kid got a pass for being Sharon's son. Obviously he got his brains from his mother, and Flynn was not the only one who had thought that. The case wasn't closed yet, but they were on their way. It was close enough that Sharon had left her team completing interview notes and reports so that she could make it home in time to have dinner with all three of her kids.

She had been gone for at least two hours by the time Andy left the office, trailing out behind the others. He was almost home when he got the text from Rusty, asking if he'd seen her. Andy was alarmed, at first, until the kid clarified that she said she was going to run an errand.

_She said to start the roast, she'd be home soon. Is she okay? The other two are getting nervous._

Andy thought about that for another two blocks. Then he pulled over and tried calling Sharon himself. She didn't answer. He wasn't immediately concerned. Given the events of the day, Andy thought it might not be outside the realm of normal that Sharon would want some time alone. She was so used to being strong for everyone, and she had managed a pretty good facade during the day.

He tapped his phone against his thigh before he finally sent a text. If she didn't want to talk, that was fine. Andy couldn't blame her for that. Divorce was hard. Even when it was time to end a marriage, it was still an end.

_At least tell me that you're okay. _It was all incredibly relative. She might be okay physically, but who knew where her head was at. It would at least satisfy the kids and keep their imaginations from running wild, and his along with them.

The response made him smile. _You can tell Rusty that I'm fine. _

_Or you could answer your phone and tell him yourself._ Andy smirked before adding. _Where are you?_

He could almost hear the inflection, the throaty drawl of sarcasm in her written response. _If you can figure it out, you can join me._

If nothing else, it told him that if she wasn't okay, she was going to be. Andy drummed his fingers against his steering wheel while he thought about it. There were only a handful of places that he could think of where she might have gone. If it were anyone else, there would be a couple of bars he could poke his head into, but this was Sharon. He thought back to everything he knew about her, and there was only one place he could imagine that she would be after the day she'd had.

Andy turned his car around and drove toward the northwest end of town, toward the hills and canyons of the national park. If he was remembering right, there was a bluff there which overlooked the city. She liked to go there to think when they were much younger, and she was still a wet behind the ears homicide detective just barely out of patrol. That was a long time ago, but there were times when Andy remembered those days clearly, and others when he could hardly believe it ever happened.

Half an hour later, Andy was pulling his car to a stop alongside a familiar silver sedan. The bluff had a wide stretch of drive where cars were usually left, or the teenagers still liked to park, and was bordered with large stones. There was also a well kept trail which lead off the overlook, to a small picnic area. Andy used a small hand light to illuminate the way, although the picnic area itself was dimly lit.

That was ultimately where he found Sharon, seated on one of the tables, and watching the lights of the city below. It seemed to be spread out for miles, with the twinkling stationary lights of homes and businesses, along with the moving headlights out on the highway.

"You get how bad an idea it is to disappear out here all by yourself, right?" Andy eased a hip onto the table and slid up beside her. "Or did you forget what we do for a living?"

She slanted a look at him and a half smile tugged at her lips. "Good thing I'm armed." Sharon tapped the gun, clipped to her belt, and concealed beneath her blazer. She arched a brow at him. "That didn't take you long."

"Who says memory is the first to go?" He bent forward and rested his arms against his knees.

"Hmm." She chuckled. "Provenza."

Andy snickered. "I won't tell him you said that." He regarded her closely. "The kids are worried."

"I know." She sighed. "I told them I was fine." Sharon pushed the air out of her lungs. "I just… I thought about going home and having to talk about it and…" She shook her head. "They mean well, both of them, and I love them for it, but I'm just not ready to discuss it."

"Hiding is going to help?" Andy nudged her shoulder with his. "You don't hide." He watched the way her gaze dropped to her hands and she picked at her nails. "Sharon?"

"Even the witch had her castle, Andy." Her tone was soft, barely above a murmur. She curled her arms around one of his and leaned her head against his shoulder. "It isn't my habit to spend time on what could have been. There hasn't been time for that. I had children to raise. Regret always seemed like such a waste of time. Today it's just a little harder to avoid than usual." She sighed. "I spoke to Gavin. My son faced his father and threatened to crush him in court. This was never what I wanted for them, Andy." It was hard to determine which hurt the most, the end of a marriage that scarcely existed, or the effect it had on the children it produced.

"No, it wasn't." He took one of her hands and laced their fingers together. "You couldn't build both ends of a relationship. At some point Jack is going to have to take responsibility for not being there for his kids. You tried, probably harder than he deserved."

"I didn't do it for him." Her teeth scraped across her bottom lip. She swallowed hard against the thick ache in her throat. "I'm just wondering how I ended up here. This was not the life that I was going to have."

"We plan," Andy said gently, "life happens."

"Yes it does." Her gaze drifted from the glow of the city, and she lifted her head to study his profile. "I wasn't going to marry Jack at all," she admitted.

His brows lifted. This he hadn't heard before. "What happened?" She was being unusually open, and where she wasn't ready to talk about it with her children, he sensed her need to grieve, to pine, and then move on. "I always wondered how it was that he won you."

She chuckled. It was low and throaty. "He was charming, funny… and incredibly persistent. I was young and idealistic. We both came from Catholic families, so… we did what was expected of us. We got married." Sharon tilted her head as she thought back. "I went to work to pay for law school and… it isn't an unusual story by any means. It's all so very ordinary that it's practically pathetic. I had Ricky, and then I had Beth, and then Jack decided to leave. Of course, it isn't as though I'm easy to live with."

"Don't do that." Andy scowled at her. "Having a piss-poor husband is a far cry from being hard to live with. If you're not happy with your wife, you leave her. You get a divorce. You don't stay drunk and gamble everything away. You don't come and go, and continuously make her and your kids miserable." When she looked away, he tipped her chin back up. "You have high standards, high expectations for those around you, but they aren't impossible, Sharon. You don't expect more of people than you're willing to do yourself. I've never known you to expect more than people are capable of, either. You loved him. You stuck it out, you waited, and he disappointed you. He's hurt you more times than you can probably count, and hard as it was, you stood by your beliefs. You didn't give up, he did."

"Didn't I?" Her eyes were moist; the unshed tears blurred her vision. Sharon glanced away again and swallowed hard against the sharp ache in her throat. Her jaw clenched, briefly, before she shook her head. "Don't put me on a pedestal, Andy. I was apathetic. It was convenient. If I felt like having Jack around, then I indulged him. If I didn't want him there, I knew how hard to push to make him leave again. I wasn't blameless. Yes," she sighed, "he came and he went, and he left me a number of times. Yes, he might have hurt me, but we're both adults. We both know that it took two people to destroy my marriage. Jack was neglectful, and he was irresponsible, but I was mostly indifferent. I quit fighting, Andy."

He studied her profile for a moment, and watched the single tear as it tracked its way down her cheek. She swept it away with the back of her hand and he turned his attention back to the city. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. "It's hard to win a battle that you're fighting alone."

Sharon drew a thin breath and let it out slowly. "Yes. I suppose you're right about that."

"You're admitting that I'm right about something?" He nudged her shoulder and gave her a smile. "Can I get that in writing?"

"Absolutely not." Sharon leaned her head against his shoulder again. "Hindsight is a terrible thing," she decided. "You can imagine all the different ways you'd like things to have happened, and no matter how wonderful the ideas are… there's no going back. I think that's what hurts the most."

"You have to accept what you can't change," he said gently. "Life isn't reversible. There aren't any do-overs, as the kids would say."

Her lips curved into a small smile. He would know that as well as anyone. Sharon lifted her head and propped her chin atop his shoulder so that she could watch his face. "Unfortunate, isn't it? But it doesn't stop the mind from wandering."

"No," he slanted a look at her. The look in her eyes was unreadable, and he wasn't sure if it was the darkness of the picnic area, or if she were being purposefully impassive. "Thinking about it doesn't help. You can imagine it all you like. What if Jack had stopped drinking sooner. What if he'd stopped gambling. What if there hadn't been any affairs. Life isn't built on what-ifs."

"Pity." Her lips pursed. "What if I'd filed for divorce instead of separation. What if I'd stopped reminding myself that I was married."

The way her tone dipped, the velvet, breathless quality was smoother than any bourbon and twice as strong. Andy's jaw clenched. He forced himself to look away, and to exhale past the catch in his chest and the tightening in his gut. His fingers itched with the desire to reach out for her. The muscles of his arms tensed with the effort to ignore it. Not for the first time in the last two years was it difficult for him to ignore his baser instinct. He had to remind himself that it was far more complicated than Homicide versus Internal Affairs now.

When he felt like he could trust himself again, Andy risked a look at her. Her expression hadn't changed much, but now it was slightly wistful, if expectant. "You'd have resented me," He told her. "Just as much as you resent Jack now. I was still a drunk then." His brow arched, he shrugged. "Would have been a hell of a ride, though."

"Hm." She couldn't disagree with that, even as much as she would have liked to. "For a while, I suppose." Her head inclined while she considered. "It probably would have gotten very ugly."

"Most likely," Andy agreed. "I was a pretty lousy drunk."

Her lips twitched toward a smile. "Yes, I remember." She'd dealt with him more than once after transferring to Internal Affairs. "Not that I was always very pleasant."

"Yes," he echoed in a dry tone. "I remember." She could be down right mean when she needed to be. Mean, but fair, his continued presence on the force was evidence enough of that.

Sharon poked his side. "You yell, I yell back." She pressed her lips together and glanced away for a moment. "Andy, why did you come out here?"

That was the more pressing question, wasn't it? Andy stretched his long legs and stood. His body protested having sat on the hard surface of the table, but he ignored it. He turned and looked at her, silhouetted in the dim, barely there lighting of the picnic area. She was tired, the effects of the last few weeks having weighed on her. He would still like to get his hands on Jack, but he pushed that frustration aside. Andy reached for her instead and pulled her forward to stand with him. His hands slid up to cup her head; his fingers tangled in the thick, dark locks of her hair and he tipped her face up.

"I'm not that lousy drunk anymore," he said by way of answer.

"No," she said quietly. Her breath caught in her throat. Sharon reached up and curled her fingers around his wrists, but didn't tug him away. She met his gaze and drew another thin, shaky breath. In the dark his eyes were deep pools of black, more than once she'd imagined getting lost in them.

"You're not a married woman." Her divorce wasn't final, but the sixty day waiting period was only a formality. The papers were signed and filed. Andy's jaw clenched again. His thumbs caressed her cheeks gently, and then along the curve of her jaw.

"I'm not," she agreed. "Andy," his name escaped her lips on a sigh. "This is going to be complicated." His breath was warm, moist against her lips.

"It's always been complicated," he reminded her, voice thick and barely above a whisper. "You'd better think of a better reason," he warned.

There was enough challenge in his tone to make her lips curve. He had kissed her before, and she could almost taste him. Heat and anticipation swept through her, chasing away the ache of regret that had left her feeling heavy. It reminded her that there could be life beyond her marriage, if she would allow it. His thumb swept the underside of her jaw, and below her ear. She hummed in response. "Your partner hates me," she said.

"He adores you," his lips brushed her cheek. "Mostly." Andy cradled the back of her head in one hand. The other moved down her arm, and then to her waist. "That the best you got?"

"I'm your boss." She drew a breath. Her eyes closed when his hand moved to her hip and drew her closer. Her own hands had fallen to his chest. They curled around the lapels of his jacket, and she held on rather than pushing him away, as she might have before.

"Falls under complicated," he rumbled. His lips caressed her jaw. His nose nudged at her cheek, and he moved to her ear. He nuzzled, breath coming in hot puffs of moist air. "You'll file all the right forms," Andy nosed her hair aside and inhaled. That mingled scent of gardenia in her hair, and the Dior of her perfume, and the spice that was uniquely Sharon was heady. "What else?"

"I'm mean," she murmured. "You're a hot head." Her teeth dug into her bottom lip and she moaned when his mouth moved against her pulse point. "We're going to fight," she managed to force out on a shuddering sigh.

"I really hope so." He smiled against her neck. He felt her shiver against him and his hand snaked up her back to hold her against him. "Always loved fighting with you. I think I could love making up more. Sharon…"

"I'm trying." She tipped her head back when his lips moved back across her jaw. "I can't think."

"Good." His hand gripped the back of her head and he drew her to him at the same moment his mouth closed over hers. A low groan rumbled in his throat. This time, she wasn't trying to get away from him, and he wasn't kicking himself for it. To hold her without censure, that was a new feeling. It was as heady as her scent, and he rode the sensation.

It was liquid heat and desire, coursing through her in waves that left her head spinning and her body tingling. Her back arched, she molded against him. It was almost too much and not enough at the same time. "Andy…" She could scarcely breathe, but managed to gasp his name against the tangle of lips and teeth and moist heat.

The vice grip she had on his shoulders was almost painful. His face pressed into her neck when the pressure in his chest demanded air. His hands moved up and down her back. His jaw clenched again, only this time it was in an attempt to calm the heat in his veins. "Too soon."

It wasn't a question, but she nodded silently and dropped her head to his chest. The argument could be waged that they'd been dancing around this for twenty-some-odd years, and at the very least the physical attraction had been there. Age had tempered them. While she had the barrier of her marriage, he had changed. He was still the hot head she'd called him earlier, but he had grown wiser, and slightly less reckless.

Sharon lifted her head after another minute. Her hands fell to his waist and there they stayed, hanging loosely at his belt. "I have to go," she said, with some regret. "The kids will start calling again." They were waiting for her. There was also the fact that, as much as they might like to continue, they were far too old for what he had in mind in that location.

His hands moved down her arms. He took her hands and held them. It was another minute, and a deeply drawn breath before Andy dropped a final kiss to her lips and drew her with him. They walked hand in hand back to where they'd left their cars, neither speaking. Andy took the key out of her hand when they approached and opened her door for her. He stood with her there, hand still loosely clasped in his. "You'll be okay?"

"Hm." She gave him a warm smile. "My broom knows its way home."

His eyes crinkled at the corners. He tipped her chin up and bent, kissing her again. "Then you'd better go, while you still can."

Her phone began ringing again. Sharon laughed. "Right on time. They are, if nothing else, predictable." She reached up and touched her fingers to his cheek for just a moment before folding herself into the car.

Andy pushed her door closed and stepped back. His hands found their way into his pockets and he watched as Sharon's silver sedan backed away, then turned and slowly faded out of view. It was the first time he'd watched her go without having to fear they were both fleeing.

At the condo, the children continued to wait for her. Elizabeth had retreated to a bath, leaving the boys alone to _bond_ as she called it. Instead, an awkward silence had descended.

"Staring at me isn't going to make either of us any more comfortable." Rusty rolled his eyes toward the young man who had taken up residence on the sofa. The condo was getting crowded, and truth was, Rusty was the one feeling uncomfortable and out of place. Elizabeth was nice enough. She had an interesting sense of humor, but she was a bit on the perky side. It made Rusty wonder what Sharon must have been like when she was young; he couldn't imagine that she was ever _perky_, but Elizabeth was enough like her that he could just almost picture it.

Then there was Richard.

Where Elizabeth was outgoing and friendly, almost to the point of stalking him, her brother was an entirely different story. At the heart of it, the two boys, or rather, boy and man, were sizing each other up. Neither really knew what to make of the other. Ricky was polite, and it was no less than Rusty would have expected, knowing Sharon, but he couldn't exactly say that they _liked_ each other.

They didn't really know each other. They were also years apart in age. That made it only slightly more awkward. Perhaps if Ricky were younger, they might have more in common.

No, Rusty stopped that thought immediately. He liked sports. He played baseball in high school and college. He was eating beer nuts for crying out loud. On the sofa, no less.

"You know she hates it when you do that." Rusty was seated at the table, his computer in front of him while he sussed out his latest chess opponent.

"You're kidding right?" Ricky went so far as to put his feet on the coffee table and grin. "Is this the part where you warn me that she'll kill me if she catches me?" He wiggled on the sofa, getting more comfortable.

"Do I look particularly stupid to you?" Rusty rolled his eyes again. "If you don't know she's going to kill you, then I'm not going to waste my time warning you."

Ricky popped another beer nut in his mouth and grinned as he flipped through channels until he found a ball game that looked halfway decent. "Of course she's going to kill me. But it will cheer her up. She likes to fuss." He tossed at look at the kid. "You haven't figured that out yet?"

"Seriously?" Rusty looked at him as though he were profoundly stupid. Maybe he was. Elizabeth was perky, but she was mostly intelligent. Maybe the other one had too much of his father in him. "She ran down eight flights of stairs, in her bare feet, beat down a door, and almost shot a guy. We are so way beyond _she likes to fuss_."

He snorted, then he laughed. "Yeah, okay." Ricky shook his head. "I have to give you that one. You should see her take on a nun. Mom can be pretty bad ass."

"Nuns are yesterday's news." Rusty laid his chin in his hand and studied the chess board on his computer screen. "She's taking on priests these days." He was still pretty impressed with the way she had kept him in school two years before.

"Feisty." He crossed his legs at his ankles and studied the game for a moment. "So why are you still here anyway?" That was the question which had been weighing on his mind. He was all for fair breaks, helping those that needed it, and what not. "You aged out, right? So what's the sitch now? You're not a ward anymore. No one is making you stay."

"Okay." Rusty sat up and glared at him. "I thought we covered the part where she was bad ass with a gun?" This was what he had been expecting. The part where her kids began trying to push him out. He gripped the edge of the table and scowled at the young man on the sofa. "Why do you care? You're never here."

Ricky craned his head to the side and looked at him. He was more curious than anything. His mom was vested in this kid, but there was no longer any legal reason for him to stay. She no longer had any power to keep him. He didn't want to see her hurt… again. "She's my mom. I care." He tossed the remote down and folded his hands against his stomach. "There's nothing keeping you here now. You could go wherever you wanted."

Rusty closed his laptop and stood. "I really don't think it's any of your business."

He hadn't meant to upset the kid, but he'd obviously hit a nerve. Ricky's head inclined. His mother _would_ kill him for that. "Look, I didn't mean it like… I'm just trying to figure out if I'm going to have to help her pick up the pieces after you break her heart too."

"I'm not a mooch." Rusty scowled at him. His stomach clenched, churning into knots. "Sharon—"

"Can be pretty damned persuasive when she wants something," Ricky rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know. If there is one thing I know about my mother, it's that she usually gets what she wants. The exception has always been my father."

Running away never solved anything. That was a lesson that Sharon was still trying to teach him. The effort to not flee was making his entire body ache. Rusty shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting… and to keep from grabbing his computer and bolting for his room. "I want to stay." He shrugged. "Isn't that enough?"

"I don't know," Ricky answered honestly. "It's not that I don't like you kid. Or even that I don't trust you. She's my mom."

It was a sentiment that he understood, at least for the most part. His mother had abandoned him, and coming to terms with that was still pretty difficult. Rusty looked away, while his jaw clenched, and considered exactly what he was willing to say or admit to this stranger that, honestly, he felt was invading his home. "Yeah…" His chest ached. "I get it. It's kind of complicated, and it's sort of not. It's just a thing. It doesn't have a label. She's not my mother. She's here… for one… but she sort of_ is_, too, and it basically is what it is. I'm not going anywhere. So whatever."

"Prickly aren't you?" Ricky smirked a little. "Don't get defensive. Time to let you in on a little secret…" He picked up the remote again. "It's our job to look out for her. Unless you haven't noticed, she's always so busy looking out for everyone else, she never sees the train until it hits her."

"I noticed." He walked into the kitchen to check the roast, and considered texting Sharon one more time. She said she was on her way. Instead, he walked back into the living room and threw himself onto a chair. "So what, you go around pushing your nose in her business and call that looking out for her?"

"Are you kidding me?" Ricky laughed. "I thought we already covered the part where she's bad ass with a gun," he mimicked Rusty from earlier. "Basically mom is pretty good at taking care of herself. Her weak point was always my dad, but that isn't going to be a problem anymore. I'm just trying to make sure you aren't going to be another one. Weak point, I mean. She really cares about you, and I know that you have to know that. I'm also pretty sure that it's mutual. But I was also sure, for most of my life, that my dad also loved her - in his own screwed up way. I realized when I got old enough to understand it that I was wrong. He never cared about anyone but himself, but that's never stopped her from caring. She's sort of… all in. Tough outer shell, but all mushy on the inside."

"Kind of like that, yeah." Rusty glanced toward the television and sighed. Baseball. It had to be the single most boring sport invented, second only to golf, in his opinion. "It's pretty mutual. You can stop worrying." That was all that he would say about it, he decided.

"We'll see." The jury was still out, but the kid seemed mostly okay. "The boyfriend, he could be a problem, you think?"

"I really don't want to." Rusty shuddered.

"Yeah." Ricky shared that sentiment. "Well, just get ready. The writing is on the wall, kid."

"The writing has been on the wall." Rusty rolled his eyes. "Dude, they are totally already dating."

"Elizabeth and I think so too," Ricky said. "Mom is just the champion of justification and compartmentalization. She can argue anything down to its finite pieces and then blow them away."

"Tell me about it," he muttered. "When that doesn't work, she resorts to pure stubbornness." Rusty knew those traits well.

The sound of a key in the door had them both turning. They watched while Sharon dropped her keys on the table by the door, along with her purse, and shed her jacket as she walked into the apartment. "There, I'm home. Are you both happy now?" It was sarcasm, but tinged with dry humor. She shook her head at them and stepped out of her heels. "I haven't been this hounded since I was sixteen, and there weren't even cell phones then."

It was relief that made Rusty snicker. He couldn't put a finger on whether he was relieved that he was no longer alone with her son, or just that she was home and he could see that she was more or less okay, but relief just the same. "Did they even have landline phones then?"

"Just for that, you can do the dishes _and_ the trash tonight." Sharon dropped her heels in the little corner near the hall and made her way toward the kitchen. "How is it looking?"

"I just turned the heat back up," Rusty called. "It's barely even cooked any."

"Perfect." Sharon dropped her jacket on the back of one of the stools at the breakfast bar and stepped into the kitchen to start opening cabinets and the fridge. "Richard. I know those aren't your feet on my coffee table."

"Nope." He took them down and tossed a wink at the kid. "No idea what you're talking about."

"Mmhmm." She pulled fresh asparagus from the vegetable drawer and laid the bundle by the sink. "I suppose you aren't eating on the sofa either."

"I'd never dream of it, mom." He placed the bowl on the coffee table and turned the volume on the game down.

"Good, then I won't be finding any crumbs, will I?" She glanced toward him, a brow raised. She caught Rusty's smirk and shook her head. "Homework?"

"Almost." His nose wrinkled. "I've got some trig left."

"Then I suggest you finish it. You've got plenty of time before dinner." She pulled out a cutting board and more vegetables. "Go on. You know I don't like to ask twice."

"Right." He sighed as he pushed out of his seat. "I'm going, I'm going… I'm not the one that was out all night."

It earned him a look as well. "Rusty."

It was familiar enough that Ricky laughed. "Oh yeah. She's got her claws in you alright. Well, welcome to the family, Rusty Beck - looks like you're going to be stuck with us."

Rusty rolled his eyes at him. "I can't tell you how much that thrills me," he muttered.

"Richard." Sharon set a mixing bowl on the counter and fixed him with a knowing look. "Stop bothering Rusty. Where is your sister?"

"Drowning herself in your tub." He waited for her to get busy and put his feet back up on the coffee table. "She said something about your tub and then the closet. Or maybe it was your closet and then the tub. I'm not sure. She wasn't making a lot of sense, not that she ever does. How did the case work out?"

"It hasn't yet." She chose to ignore his comments about his sister. Her grown children had a way of acting like teenagers again when they were together for any length of time, usually about five minutes. "We've given him the rope, he's made the noose, but he hasn't hung himself with it yet. We'll follow up tomorrow and see how far we get."

"What about the monkeys." He glanced back into the kitchen and grinned. "I see you didn't bring me one. I'm almost hurt."

She laughed. "They've been moved." Sharon grinned. She looked over at him and winked. "Don't worry, they've found a good home."

"You were naughty." Ricky shook his head at her. "No one is ever going to believe it was you. It's practically machiavellian."

"Practically." She inclined her head and imagined the look on Lieutenant Provenza's face when he got home. "Hm. Anyway, both situations have been handled. So it turned out to be not such a bad day after all. Although it might get a lot worse for you if you don't get those feet _off_ my coffee table."

He let them drop again. "My shoes are off," he protested mildly.

"Richard."

"Fine." He rolled his eyes at her and turned his attention back to the game.

"Ricky. We should get mom to move." Elizabeth came down the hall, hair still piled on her head and dressed in a sweater and loose jogging pants. "This place is too small for three of us."

"So sorry that you disapprove." Sharon arched a brow at her daughter when she appeared. "Although, considering how seldom you actually visit, much less together, I think my home is more than adequately sized."

"Hey. You're home." Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Um. Sorry?"

"Hm." Sharon finished preparing the asparagus and placed them in the steamer. "Children who live on the opposite side of the country should not complain about their mother's living arrangements."

"I live six hours away," Ricky pointed out. "The place is kind of small, mom."

"Yet, still you don't visit." Her lips pursed. "Imagine that. Six hours, less than two by plane. Interesting, isn't it."

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" Ricky sighed.

"Oh yeah," Elizabeth grinned. "I can only dance for the ABT in New York, you could be a lawyer right here. Way to go champ."

Sharon's lips pressed together while she fought an amused smile. "That isn't the point I was making. You're both free to live your lives where you choose. I would, however, like to see you more than once or twice a year."

Ricky's head inclined. "If I point out that planes go both ways, you're going to throw something at me, aren't you?"

"I might." Her eyes lit with silent laughter.

"We'll try to be better?" Elizabeth leaned against the counter and fluttered her lashes at her mother.

"No you won't." Sharon laughed. "But thank you for saying it. Unfortunately, this is what happens when your children grow up. I'm just going to have to continue accepting it."

"No." Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her mother's waist from behind and laid her head against her shoulder. "We'll try to be better," she promised. Her mother laid an arm over one of hers. "Mom, are you okay?"

Sharon laid her head against her daughter's. "Yes, honey. I really am." She only wished that she knew how to explain to her children that having the specter of her marriage removed was more relief than hurt. The pain came from years wasted, from regret, from loneliness and longing. Mostly, it came from knowing that her children had been hurt. Sharon turned her head and pressed a kiss to her daughter's temple. "I got the two of you. It was all worth it. Understand?"

"I think so," she admitted quietly. "We worry about you." She held on a little tighter. "I don't want you to be—"

"Beth…" Sharon turned and cupped her face. "There isn't anything to worry about. You certainly aren't to worry about me. I've been living without your father for a very long time, signing a piece of paper hasn't really changed a whole lot. He's still gone. He's still not coming back, and if you want to know the truth, you really shouldn't worry because this just means that I can finally get on with _my _life. So _stop_." She kissed the top of her nose before turning her. "Now go. If you want me to feed you, out of my kitchen."

"Geez mom. Don't pull any punches or anything." Elizabeth jumped, squeaking quietly when a wooden spoon landed across her bottom. "Okay, I'm going, I'm going." She walked into the living room and smirked when she knocked her brother's feet off the coffee table.

"Hey, I'm watching the game here." Ricky reached over, smacking her with a throw pillow.

"Feet off the table, Richard." She picked up the pillow from the opposite side of the sofa and hit him back with it.

The pillow landed off the side of his head. Ricky arched a brow at her. He sat there for just a moment. His head inclined, and his lips pursed. "Okay. If that's how you want it." His fingers tightened around the pillow in his hand and he let it bounce off her side.

"Really?" Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. She knocked her pillow against his chest.

It devolved from there. There was squealing and laughter, and somehow the beer nuts ended up on the floor. Sharon looked skyward and sighed. She was wrong, they were worse than teenagers when they were together. The noise drew Rusty from his room. He stood near the breakfast bar, watching them. "Just ignore them," Sharon told him.

"He's sitting on her." Rusty's head inclined. He wasn't sure if he was amused or horrified. They were adults, right?

"Not for long." Sharon sighed. She counted silently and nodded when she heard the deep, male grunt. "See, it's fine. Is your homework done?"

"Yes." He backed up slowly and leaned against the bar. "They always do this?"

"Hm." She shrugged. Sharon opened the oven to check on the roast. "Don't worry, she's little but she's mean."

"Not the one I'm worried about." He winced in sympathy when Ricky grunted again. "Sharon, your kids are like, trying to kill each other."

She laughed quietly. "Rusty, will you get me the spray bottle from my bathroom."

He made a face at her, looking a little unsure what that would have to do with making a roast. "Uh… sure." He eased out of the living room and down the hall. When he returned, the wrestling match was still going on. He passed the bottle to Sharon who was waiting for it next to the kitchen table.

She smiled, somewhat serenely, and twisted the spout. Then she walked over and started hitting both of her adult children with the fine stream of spray. It got the desired response, there was a squeal from her daughter and a yell from her son. They scrambled away and stopped attempting to put the other in a headlock. "Finished?"

The pair looked at each other and nodded. "Sure."

"Sorry mom."

"Good." Sharon turned and tossed the bottle to Rusty. "Hang on to that. We might need it again before the night is done. They really are mature and well behaved most of the time."

"Uh huh." He didn't look convinced. "They're both a little weird, you know that right?"

She laughed. "Rusty. I think you and I are the weird ones." Sharon tilted her head and smiled warmly at him. She nodded her head toward the kitchen, her invitation for him to help her.

He placed the spray bottle on the counter and walked over, hands in his pockets to lean against the side of the fridge. "You can't convince me that they're normal, Sharon. I've already met them." When she slanted a look at him, he grinned. "You're kids are weirdos, that's why you need me."

"I'd be willing to accept that logic." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. She slowly stirred the contents of a sauce pan and arched a brow at him. "It's going to be a little crowded around here for a few more days."

"Yeah." He shrugged as he reached for a red potato and began cutting it in fourths. "That's fine. I can handle it if you can."

"I can," she assured him. "I like having you all here."

"It's cool." He lapsed into silence while he concentrated on his task.

Sharon watched him from the corner of her eye. When he caught her looking, he rolled his eyes at her. She smiled again and glanced into the living room. Elizabeth was now paging through a magazine and Ricky's attention was back on the game. She sighed softly and turned back to the dinner she was preparing.

We plan, Andy had said, and life happens. This was certainly not the life that she had planned for. It wasn't how she envisioned that she would be spending the downward slide from middle aged. When she had imagined life after fifty, she had not expected that she would be alone, with her grown children living their own lives miles apart from her own. Then, just as she was preparing to accept that, she wasn't alone any longer. Raising another teenager had not been in the cards either, but now she couldn't imagine life without the young man she considered as much her own as the two she had given birth to. Life happens. It was a rather bumpy ride at times, but it didn't seem to be too awful a ride from where she was sitting.

Sharon felt Rusty's gaze and glanced up. He tilted his head at her, much as she usually did for him. He wouldn't ask her, he wouldn't push, but the question in his gaze was clear. Sharon laid a hand on his arm when she slid past him to open the pantry. She gave his shoulder a light pat and nodded silently. She was okay. She might find reason to doubt that in the days ahead, but for the moment they were all just fine.


	8. Chapter 8

The Good Wife - Chapter 8

by: Kadi

Rated: M

* * *

By the beginning of the following week, life had returned to some semblance of normalcy. Sharon sent her children back to their own lives and was making headway in getting back to her own. It was unusual, she had lived without Jackson in her life for quite some number of years, and the simple knowledge that she was no longer married seemed to give it all a new visage. Or perhaps it was her view of it all which was changing.

Andy had not approached her again. Sharon didn't expect that he would. She could say that they were existing in the same manner that they had always existed, but that was not entirely true. That relationship had shifted. Their looks lingered. Their was more meaning behind their smiles. If he touched her in passing, she tried to pretend that she didn't notice the way his fingers lingered against her skin, her hand or arm. Or the way his hand would hover against the small of her back if he were escorting her.

She could believe that he was being patient, but the truth was, there was nothing at all about Andy Flynn that had any resemblance to patience. He was hot headed, impetuous, and so completely unlike her. It was one of many things which made them so completely unlikely. Sharon lived her entire life following the rules. People made jokes about her rule book, both in her private and professional life. What they couldn't understand was that by clinging to rules which governed society, those rules which guided her profession, she was providing what little order she could to a life which was in complete disarray.

Following the rules was something that she could control. After a time, it became second nature. It became part of who she was, rather than just something that she did.

Then there was Andy. Sharon was fairly certain there was not a rule that he had met which he did not try to break, at least in some fashion or another. Now that her marriage was at an end, no longer a barrier she could use as a shield or a safety net, she was having to think very seriously about whether or not she could allow herself to cross that final threshold. There was something there. She knew it. He knew it. Hell, everyone who knew them knew it. Her children were aware, and even when he tried to convince his that they really weren't together… Nicole hadn't believed it. His ex-wife was suspicious of them. Even when Sharon tried explaining that she was married, it hadn't seemed to do any good. That was months ago.

_I'm a married woman_. It was no longer a gate that she could close. The gilded cage was gone.

So here they were, stuck between the limbo that had become their normal state, and moving toward something more definite. There was a large question mark looming in front of her, and Sharon wasn't a woman who liked uncertainty. It was the not knowing which held her back, if she was honest with herself.

It was the uncertainty of what would happen when she let herself take that step which started keeping her up at night. She liked to pretend she was waiting until the formality of her divorce being final was behind her, but it was just an excuse. She was terrified.

It was more than their careers. They didn't have much of them left, really. Ten years, possibly, if she was generous about it. They were both eligible for retirement, but neither of them was ready for that. They enjoyed their work, but they were both beyond the point of sacrificing their personal lives for their careers. That time had come and gone.

She could argue that she was his boss, but he was right about that too. As long as she reported the nature of their relationship, they were covered. They didn't have to worry she would show undo favoritism. Rules were rules, after all, and she was very good at following them. The challenge would come in reminding Andy of them, but that would be no different than their present association.

The uncertainty seemed to hover over whether or not the reality would live up to the anticipation. She was too old for that sort of entanglement, to have that kind of drama in her life. She wanted to run the other direction, but she also wanted _him_. She wasn't a woman who ran away from things, she didn't suffer fools, and she wasn't someone who lay awake nights pining and worrying. She made decisions, and she stood by them. She planned, and then she executed.

She acted before she could change her mind. Then she didn't dwell on the consequences. Which was exactly how she came to be standing at Andy's door in the middle of the night.

She felt distinctly like hyperventilating in those few seconds after knocking. Her chest ached but she forced air into and out of her lungs, despite the pressure. She was not prone to moments of anxiety. She worried for her children, for her parents, and for her siblings. She was not a nervous creature. Except when it came to the relationships with the men in her life, apparently.

For several long moments, Sharon wondered if she should knock again or just leave. Chalk it up to the insanity of too little sleep and go home before she did something she might regret. The decision was taken out of her hands, however, with the opening of the door. Andy stood in front of her, bleary eyed, in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, rumpled with his hair in disarray. She exhaled in a rush and drew her bottom lip between her teeth. Her mouth was suddenly dry and she couldn't think of a thing to say, although she had rehearsed a dozen different openings in the car between her place and his. It all fled right out of her mind and her stomach knotted painfully.

Andy ran a hand over his face and blinked, sleepily, at her. "Sharon?" He had expected Provenza, expected to find him drunk and locked out of his place, keys left at a bar along with his car, and no where else to go. He squinted at her, the light in his hall too bright against his sleep-filled eyes. He pulled the door wider, but when she didn't move, his head inclined. It took a few moments for her wide-eyed appearance to push past the fog in his head. He reached for her, curled a hand around her arm and drew her into the apartment. Her hair was pulled back, and in jeans and a simple t-shirt she hardly resembled the tough as nails Captain he had parted from just hours before. He waited until he had flipped the lock, and drew her to the living room where the light was softer, and wasn't assaulting his overworked eyes. "Sweetheart, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

She shook her head. Her lips pressed into a thin line. She drew a breath before she felt that she could meet his gaze. "No, I… I can't do this. We're too old. It's too late. I waited too long."

He frowned at her. "You woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me that?" Andy reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "You think too much." She was still trying to figure out all the reasons why they couldn't be. "Your reasons still suck." He reached for her hand and drew her closer to him. She was cute when she was all worked up, but the nearly panicked expression in her eyes made his heart clench painfully.

"It's not funny," the hint of amusement in his tone had her ire rising. "Andy, this is a mistake. Look at us! We're on the wrong side of fifty, and I don't know about you, but I'm a lot closer to sixty than I really care to admit. It would be insane to start this now." She tried to tug her hand away from him, but his hands held both her wrists. "I'm serious."

"So am I." He lifted a hand to her cheek. His thumb swept the curve of her jaw before he settled his hand against her throat. He could feel her pulse strumming wildly. His thumb stroked gently against her pulse point, intending to calm. "You're spooked. It's okay. I'm not going anywhere. If it's still too soon, that's fine. You're right, we're not kids anymore, but maybe that's a point in our favor rather than against."

"Don't." Her eyes closed and when his other arm curled around her waist she leaned into him. "Andy, please. I really can't do this. It's not a good idea." When he held her she wanted to believe it was possible, that she could have more than the loneliness that had become almost too comforting.

"Why?" He tipped her chin up and studied her face. "One good reason, Sharon. Just one."

Air left her lungs in a rush. "I need you too much." Her eyes widened. It was not the admission she expected, and yet, there it was. "I'm not easy. I'm damned difficult, and you know full well that I can be hard to get a long with. I have high expectations. I don't give easily, and I rarely give up. I need you on my side. If this implodes on us…"

He silenced her with a thumb against her lips. "I'm hot headed, argumentative, damned cranky and irresponsible. I'm an alcoholic, I work too much, and I could give a damn about your rule book." He kissed her, a brush of lips so light it was hardly a kiss at all. "I'm a cynic. You're a realist with a tendency toward optimism. You go to mass, and I only go to church to attend AA meetings. We're both divorced. Our children are grown. You're hell on wheels, damned irritating at times, but the sexiest almost-sixty year old I've ever laid eyes on." Andy's hands slipped down her arms to her hands. He lifted both of them to his lips. "We're going to fight. I'm going to infuriate you, and you're going to annoy the hell out of me. Then we're going to make up, and do it all again. We're going to laugh, and I'll probably make you cry. At the end of the day, it isn't going to matter, because I am always going to be on your side."

She drew a slow, shuddering breath and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. "Even when we're fighting?"

"Especially when we're fighting." The corners of his mouth twitched. His dark eyes were alight with laughter, and another emotion which hadn't been given voice to yet. "Someone has to help you see how things are supposed to be."

"Is that right." Her lips pressed together. Sharon leaned into him. She tugged her hands out of his and slipped her arms around his waist. "You can't promise that." She wanted so badly to believe.

"Why not?" He tipped her head back and stroked his thumb across her bottom lip again. "I know who you are. I know who I am. That's the advantage to being on this side of fifty. We aren't making empty promises. We've already lived that stage in our lives. Doesn't mean we have to live the next one alone." He lowered his head and touched another light kiss to her mouth. "I'm still waiting for that good reason."

"You are stubborn," she sighed softly.

"I thought I mentioned that." He tugged her with him and started down the hall. "Come on. It's late. You're exhausted. We have to be at work in a few hours, and my boss is mean."

"Probably with very good reason." She sniffed. "I understand you can be a real pain in the ass." She should probably leave, but he had a firm grasp on her wrist and wasn't giving her much of an option. Sharon smiled slightly. She hadn't realized he could be so bossy. The apartment wasn't very large, there was only the one room that she could see, and he pulled her to the bed. She had just a moment of uncertainty before he maneuvered her to the edge and she sank to the mattress when the backs of her legs collided with it. Sharon watched him with something close to amusement when he bent and tugged her boots from her feet.

He dropped her boots near the dresser, out of the way, and rounded the bed. Andy stretched back out on his side and when she didn't move, he looped an arm around her waist and drew her down. "Go to sleep, Sharon." He tucked her against him and sighed. "You can work on your reasons again in the morning. I'm still not going to buy them, but you can try."

"No, I can't understand at all why you're boss is so mean," she muttered. It had been too long since she shared a bed with anyone. It felt strange, but it wasn't unpleasant. She sighed softly and settled against him. He was right, she was tired. Her head ached and her heart was still fluttering a little too wildly. Maybe she'd just rest there for a few minutes, then she really needed to be getting home. Her eyes were heavy, and the feel of Andy's hand in her hair, stroking her scalp, had them closing. Just a few minutes, she promised herself, that was all that she would spare.

Waking before his alarm was not unusual for Andy. He was typically up before it sounded. He didn't usually find himself with an arm full of brunette, but when his head cleared and he remembered Sharon arriving in the middle of the night, he decided not to complain. At some point after he dozed off, he realized that she must have gotten more comfortable. Her jeans were gone, and unless he missed his guess, so was her bra. Andy smiled against her shoulder. He slipped a hand beneath her t-shirt and let his fingers dance across her stomach. She shifted against him, hummed softly, and Andy turned his face into her neck. He nosed her hair aside and nuzzled.

Sharon sighed into the pillow beneath her. Whether it was because she was just too tired to drive, or if the warmth of his arms had been too inviting, she had made the decision to stay. When his lips tugged at her ear, a smile twitched at her lips. She wriggled back against him and sighed again. "I thought you were going to let me sleep," she mumbled.

"I did." He trailed kisses to her shoulder. He continued to stroke her stomach. His hand didn't move any higher than the spot just above her naval. "Now you're awake."

"You woke me up." She reached down and covered his hand, then she rolled onto her back and gazed up at him. "I thought of another reason."

His brows lifted. "Okay." Andy settled his head in his hand and gazed down at her, waiting.

"You snore." She leaned up and kissed the tip of his chin.

"You'll get used to it." He bent his head and kissed his way along her jaw to her ear. "Your feet are cold, but I'm not holding it against you."

"Well, who said chivalry is dead." She drew a breath when his teeth grazed across her pulse point. "_Andy_." His hand was sliding up her ribcage, and her back arched in response.

"Hm?" His lips curved. He lifted his head and gazed down at her. With her eyes half lidded, and the room still cast in shadows, he couldn't discern the color, but he could imagine they were closer to emerald than their normal jade. Andy watched her tug her bottom lip between her teeth when his thumb swept the underside of her breast. The sigh on her lips shuddered right through her, and he felt the corresponding tightening low in his belly. "Yes or no, Sharon?"

He was asking for so much more than permission to continue, and they both knew it. She forced her eyes open and tried to think around the heat coiling through her. She laid her fingers against his cheek and met his gaze, so inquisitive, searching for any sign of reluctance. Sharon traced the familiar line of his jaw. She could walk away now and knew that she would regret it, but she also knew that he would still be on her side. Just as he'd promised hours ago. In the end, it wasn't what she could live with, but rather what she was unwilling to live without.

"Yes." She drew him to her and felt his relief in the sigh that was swallowed in the heat of their kiss. She hadn't realized just how tense he was until she felt it flow out of him, even when his arms gathered her close. Sharon wrapped herself around him and let herself be lost in the intensity of it.

Ignoring Andy's alarm in favor of more interesting, and decidedly more enjoyable activities, and then spending an hour in the shower might not have made for a very auspicious beginning to the new balance between professional and personal given Andy was late to work, and Sharon barely made it in on time. Of course, when he arrived carrying a drink tray laden with coffee and a box of scones from the little cafe that she liked, it was obvious that he was only tardy because he'd stopped for breakfast. No one need know that he'd taken Rusty to school for her so that she would be on time, and that the cafe was between the Station and St. Joseph's.

The squad also didn't need to know that Rusty had almost hurt himself laughing at them and the way that Sharon had rushed to get ready after sliding through the door while he was eating breakfast. He would have thought she had been called out on a case, except for the damp hair and the sly grin the Lieutenant was wearing.

The desire for discretion was born out of a need to both enjoy and foster the change in their relationship. Sharon would be reporting it soon, and the rest of them would be finding out in due time. For now, while it was secret, it was theirs. Life was a little less ordinary. It wasn't linear. It simply was.

_~FIN_


End file.
